Fairy Tail Drabbles
by friendlyneighborhoodfairy
Summary: Angsty, smutty, or romantic oneshots of various Fairy Tail pairings and triplings. Title of each chapter will say who. So far: Stingue, Gajevy, Erlu, Mirai Stingue, Gratsu, Stingue, Galu, Jusanna, Fraxus.
1. Rogue & Sting, Lets Practice

**Chapter 1: Rogue/Sting "Let's Practice"**

 **A/N:** This chapter inspired by FlipSideofC's  Stingue works and drafts (Ch1) on AO3. Sting's "Let's practice" stuck in my head, and so this happened. :)

Also, I am not neglecting Overcome, I promise! I'm working really hard to get everything right in the fic. Gonna try to get two chapters up tomorrow.

* * *

The Twin Dragons of Sabertooth had shared a bed since forever. They did everything together; they'd been roommates since they first found out who the other was; and when an occasion cropped up requiring them to share sleeping space, they did it naturally without saying a word. There was a reason people called them twins.

Of course, that didn't explain how they ended up sharing a bed in their dormitory, not that anyone bothered to wonder.

Sting and Rogue wouldn't have answered anyway. Sometimes, quite understandably, they suffered from nightmares. Each had gotten in the habit of crawling under the other's covers to give tangible comfort when needed.

Eventually, the second bed became extraneous.

Only very occasionally did Rogue wish he had a separate futon to go back to. Like tonight, when he'd awoken curled against Sting's back, a hand draped over Sting's warm ribs.

Groggy, Rogue had actually caressed Sting's side before he realized where he was and what he was doing. When he pulled sharply away (trying not to disturb the Exceeds curled up on their pillows), Sting had snuffled in his sleep, fingers groping mindlessly after him. It was very disconcerting.

Now Rogue lay as far away on the bed as possible, his back to his teammate, trying to calm his breathing. Stupid Dragon Slayer hearing meant if Sting woke up, he'd instantly know something was wrong by the pitch of Rogue's heart.

But even more than his pounding pulse, Rogue was trying to focus on getting his boner to go down.

Generally, Rogue had proud control over his body, but this happened around Sting every now and again. It was a minor, easily-managed weakness, so Rogue didn't mind too much. He'd think about something else until it went away: a mission, or whatever irritating thing Minerva had done recently, or (if it came to it) Skiadrum.

Sometimes, he'd stomp off by himself with Frosch until his mind settled. (Frosch's presence didn't count because Rogue and Frosch both liked silence.)

On very rare occasions—Rogue could count them on his fingers—he had been rash and jerked off to the stiff, eager desire that was brought on by a blonde Dragon Slayer laughing at a joke, grinning at mischief, or stretching his lithe frame after a victory.

It was probably a stupid idea, but the fantasies weren't hurting anyone and they didn't change anything. Rogue was always in control of himself around Sting. Always.

Except, apparently, when he slept.

Rogue curled his hand, still feeling the sensation of Sting's skin under his fingers. Thinking about the six and a half times he'd gotten off to fantasies of his partner was doing nothing for Rogue's cock, either.

Neither was the warm body that suddenly rolled up against his back.

Rogue held his breath as he listened to Sting's familiar sounds. Smelling, feeling, trying to determine without moving whether Sting was still sleeping.

He was. Rogue exhaled in relief.

It took a long time before Rogue was able to relax into the soft touch against his shoulder blades. A few hours before dawn, he finally fell asleep again.

The next morning Rogue had a pounding headache, the usual sign he hadn't gotten enough rest. Sting, always in sync with him, didn't disrupt the quiet.

It wasn't until Rogue finally tumbled out of bed that Sting spoke. Rogue was pulling off the shirt he'd slept in and reaching for a clean one when Sting asked, "Why do you dislike being shirtless?"

With his back to Sting, Rogue was able to hide his blush behind his hair before he faced him.

"It makes me uncomfortable," he said, pulling the garment on.

"But nobody sees you when you're sleeping."

Rogue was about to point out 'nobody' included Sting, but Lector burst out of the closet with a cheerful shout. He wore an unfamiliar green vest, a smug grin on his face.

"See? Much better than the old one," Lector said to Sting, voice much louder than Sting's had been. Rogue closed his eyes as his head throbbed.

"Looks great," String agreed, his smile as bright as sun over the horizon.

Lector and Sting were morning creatures.

Rogue and Frosch were not.

Frosch crawled over and put their head on Rogue's socked foot.

"Yeah, me too," Rogue muttered, picking up the tired Exceed. Still, he smiled as Sting and Lector kept up their cheerful chatter all the way to breakfast.

"So, we're doing that job tonight?" Sting asked as he finished off his plate.

Rogue, only halfway through eating, groaned. The action made his headache worse, and he leaned his face into one hand.

"We don't have to," Sting said quickly.

"I can do it," Rogue said, sullen. "I'll nap this afternoon."

* * *

When Rogue turned in after lunch, he was surprised Sting followed him back toward their dormitory. Rogue gave him a look and the blonde shrugged. Shrugging back, Rogue let Sting catch up to him.

That was what Rogue liked best about his partner: they understood each other perfectly.

Curling up automatically facing Sting's side of the bed, Rogue closed his eyes, head already feeling better on the horizontal. The bed jostled as Sting lay down next to him. Then warmth pressed against Rogue's arm.

Rogue jerked.

Sting was on his back, eyes closed, his arm resting loosely against Rogue's. He had to have noticed Rogue's reaction. Rogue swallowed and asked, "Uh…?"

Sting rolled over and stared at him, apparently baffled.

"You liked it last night."

The muscles of Rogue's face froze up. "What?"

Sting shook his head in exasperation and moved— _closer_.

"You cuddled my back," Sting said, voice slightly muffled in the pillow.

Rogue realized Sting's face had turned pink.

 _Oh._

 _Oh!_

Rogue felt like a bottle of champagne, bubbles trickling up his insides. He was just figuring out what he wanted to say when Sting shifted away from the physical contact and said, "Sorry."

"What? No. I…uh…I…"

"You like it?" Sting asked, perking up.

Hesitating a just second, Rogue rubbed the back of his hand down Sting's arm. "I like it."

Sting grinned. It was Rogue's turn to flush, but he didn't pull his hand away.

"If you like it, we should practice," Sting said.

Without any further warning, he rolled forward and pressed his lips to Rogue's.

Jolting against him, Rogue sucked a breath, sliding a hand across Sting's face to pull him closer. When Rogue slipped the tip of his tongue into Sting's mouth, Sting became a whirl of kinetic energy, dragging Rogue's body closer, running a hand down his abdomen, biting him lightly and speeding up the frenetic kiss.

All the bubbles inside Rogue burst as warmth spread through his chest. Sting's lips were far better than he had imagined—and yes, he'd imagined it. He'd sincerely wanted it for a long time now.

Rogue still wanted it. The more he kissed Sting, the less he could conceive of ever stopping.

It was Rogue who noticed the change first. A shift to Sting's oh-so-familiar scent made his mind stir with instinct. He'd been hard since Sting first touched him, but now he _needed._ The smell pouring off of Sting told him: it was reciprocal.

Rogue didn't have to look at what he was doing to place his palm over Sting's hard-on. Sting gasped into his mouth, but just as quickly he was hauling Rogue's hips closer and grinding against him. Rogue tried to restrain the sounds in his throat, but Sting had no such censure: he moaned.

Sting thrust into Rogue's hand, whining in confusion when Rogue pulled away, only to groan louder when Rogue's fingers found their way into his pants.

"Fuck, Rogue," Sting swore. "I want you."

The words shot straight into Rogue's heart. He was touching Sting, holding Sting in his hands, stroking smooth flesh, rubbing his thumb across the head. _This was real._ Rogue twisted half on top of Sting for a better angle, speeding up his pace while he watched his partner come undone beneath him.

As Sting arched against him, sounds getting more and more desperate, Rogue pushed his free hand up Sting's chest, shoved his shirt up, and began to play with a nipple.

"Rogue… Rogue—!"

That was all the warning Sting gave before jets of warm fluid hit his stomach and covered Rogue's hand. Sting was shaking, nails digging into Rogue's arms, breath ragged.

"We'll definitely keep practicing that," Rogue chuckled as Sting's head leaned up and thunked against his chest. "Teach you to hold out longer."

"Not a fair assessment," Sting protested, panting. "Three years of pent-up waiting were behind that. Also, your hands have magic powers."

Rogue leaned back to stare at him. Three years?

Sting filled his vision, kissing him, touching him, soft and gentle and slow. Taking him over.

Then Sting pulled back and Rogue had to cope with yet another swift change as Sting grinned excitedly and begged, "Can I suck you off?"

"What?" Rogue sputtered. "You want to?"

"Please, Rogue?"

Sting's fingers were already running up and down Rogue's erection and gods dammit Rogue couldn't think when he did that.

"Yes," Rogue breathed, overwhelmed by the sensation as Sting crawled down his body. With a questioning glance for permission, the blonde Dragon Slayer pushed up Rogue's shirt, trailing his lips across hard planes that had rarely felt another's touch. Rogue shuddered: it felt so _good_.

Then Sting yanked his pants down, ran his tongue around Rogue's cock, and pulled him into his mouth.

Rogue grunted, loudly, no longer able to feel shame at the noises. Sting was not a timid lover. Sting used his tongue to press Rogue's cock against the roof of his mouth, taking care with his sharp teeth as he sucked him up and down. But when a fang grazed faintly along the length, Rogue hissed in pleasure.

"When…did you get so good at this?" Rogue groaned.

Sting pulled up long enough to say, "Just now."

"Shit," Rogue panted. "It's better than anything…"

* * *

Sting glowed. Rogue was careful with all his words: when he lauded something, he meant it wholeheartedly. Sting had wanted to do this for so long, but doing it right was a victory.

Gripping the base of Rogue's dick, Sting drew him as far into his mouth as he could. While Sting explored the shaft with his tongue, pulling animal noises from Rogue, he gradually increased his speed. He wanted to swallow his partner down and devour him.

"Sting," Rogue whimpered.

Still bobbing up and down on his cock, Sting shifted to look up. Rogue's long black hair had fallen away from his handsome face. Rogue's normally self-controlled countenance had fallen away, abandoned and raw, contorting through expressions of pleasure. Flushed, eyes closed and mouth open, he was perfection in Sting's eyes.

If Sting watched him much longer, his heart just might stop working.

He focused on the warm cock in his mouth, the bitter flavor growing stronger, and hummed happily. Rogue's hands twisted the bedclothes as he moaned.

"S-Sting," Rogue stuttered, possibly the most exquisite thing Sting had ever heard. "Almost… I'm trying…to hold—"

Shaking his head, Sting growled at him and moved faster.

"Oh fuck!" A minute later, Rogue shouted and came. Tart fluid filled Sting's mouth, overwhelming his sharp senses, and he sucked automatically, drawing out every bit he could.

Licking his lips, Sting swallowed. It was sour, but it was Rogue, and he liked it. He glanced up and found his spent, flushed partner watching him.

"You have no idea how sexy you are," Rogue said.

Sting choked. They weren't words he ever expected to hear out of the guarded Dragon Slayer. For once, Sting Eucliffe didn't know what to say.

He crawled up next to his partner and went to hold him, but Rogue said, "Wait a second," and pulled off his shirt. "Better."

"Definitely," Sting said, running his eyes along the smooth lines. Rogue had a body worth showing off.

Sting snuggled up next to him, curling himself around his Shadow Dragon Slayer. Somehow managing to get both arms around Rogue, Sting tipped his forehead against Rogue's chest and closed his eyes, contentedly sleepy.

"This is nice," Sting sighed. "My turn to cuddle you."

"You did last night."

"I did?"

"You followed me across the bed when I pulled away." Anticipating Sting's question, Rogue added, "I had assumed you wouldn't enjoy waking up to find me spooning you. I was, um, confused when you returned the favor."

Sting twisted to grin at him.

"Well, I am good at knowing what you want."

Rogue just snorted and pulled him tighter, burying his nose in Sting's hair.

"How's your headache?" Sting asked.

"Gone," Rogue said, and there was no mistaking the smile in his voice.

Grinning against Rogue's skin, Sting decided he was never, ever letting go.


	2. Levy & Gajeel, Birthday Present

**Chapter 2: Levy/Gajeel "Birthday Present"**

Levy gave herself a private birthday present every year.

She allowed herself to ogle and enjoy Gajeel Redfox as much as she wanted—to eye that tight rear, the massive shoulders, his strong chest. Once or twice she'd sat herself down in a corner of the guild where people wouldn't notice her and just stared at his face.

He had a kind face, for all his posturing and tough image. Levy liked the way his smirk spread over into a smile, the sincerity in his eyes when he thought deeply about something.

Levy didn't spend much time reading steamy stories, but on her birthday she was allowed to fantasize about Gajeel as much as she wanted. She always had a satisfying orgasm on her birthday, later that night when she was by herself, which was quite a nice secondary gift.

The next day, it was back to work, back to focusing, back to avoiding distraction. Back to being awkward, flirty, whatever-the-hell-it-was friends.

On her twentieth birthday, Levy sacheted quietly into Fairy Tail, got a drink, and took up her usual post behind a book. Eventually someone would notice her and the celebratory congratulations would begin, but for now she was invisible.

And Gajeel was sitting, shirtless, at the other end of the bar.

Levy smiled over the top of her book as she ran her gaze over those muscles and lines. Even without using his magic, his arms looked like bars of iron. Wondering what those arms would feel like against her bare skin, she sank down and hid her flushed grin behind her book.

Maybe one day. In her dreams.

"Oi, Shrimp."

Levy yelped and dropped her book.

Standing before her, Gajeel raised an eyebrow.

"You okay?" His gruff voice made shivers break out on her skin.

"Fine, Gajeel," she said hurriedly, bending down to retrieve the tome.

Her arms being as short as they were, she had to lean quite far to reach it. As Gajeel was rumbling, "You're too startlable," Levy slipped sideways and tumbled to the floor.

"Gods, Shrimp!"

"I'm fine," she spat, picking herself up before he could help her—not that he made any move to do so. Waiting for the usual insults about her height, she dusted off her dress and let her hair fall across her burning face.

The Iron Dragon was staring at her with both eyebrows raised and his arms crossed over that delicious chest.

"Why'd you come over here?" she asked when no short jokes were forthcoming.

Gajeel took a step back at her tone, his usual scowl making its way back onto his features.

"Heard it was a special day for you or something," he grunted.

"Yeah, something," she said, hurt blooming in her chest against her will. It wasn't like she could expect him to know.

"Huh. Well, congratulations or whatever."

"If you're going to congratulate someone, you should at least know what for," she snapped. "Otherwise it doesn't mean much."

"Nitpick," Gajeel muttered, turning his face away. "Sorry that it doesn't have any meaning for you."

"That's not what I said."

Gajeel leaned in, sneering. "I'm not as stupid as you think I am, shrimp."

He began to walk away.

"Where are you going?" she barked in surprise.

"Like you care." Gajeel didn't turn back to look at her. "I don't owe you answers, bookmonkey."

Levy's mouth fell open, but no retorts came. He wasn't normally like _this_. She felt like she'd been punched in the chest. On her birthday.

Gajeel settled himself back at the other end of the bar and started talking to Mirajane.

Heaving several breaths to get air back in her lungs, Levy snatched up her book and sprinted out of the guild.

She had to run, or else the furious adrenaline would make her start trembling. Which was totally stupid. This was her birthday, and he of all people wasn't allowed to ruin it. _Why couldn't you have just sat there all shirtless and hot?_

As she ran out of the gate, she nearly knocked Jet and Droy to the ground.

"Oi, Levy!" Jet called after her. "Where you going?"

"Book!" she yelled over her shoulder, knowing it explained anything on her part.

"Are you coming back? Happy birthday!"

Levy growled in frustration and sped up around the next block.

She had no destination in mind, just a need to work the anger out of her muscles. She almost never got worked up like this, so it was unusual to find herself needing to fly over the ground, twisting around random bends and leaping around people.

In the end, her feet found their way to one of the bookshops. Stopping before the window, she panted, but not as hard as she would've expected. This shop was on the opposite end of town, like she'd wanted to get as far as possible, but she felt elated rather than tired.

Stupid fucking Dragon Slayer. She did not need him and never would. As to wanting: well, life was full of other things worthy of her enjoyment. Like the biography of her favorite linguist sitting in the center of the display.

Levy was just deciding whether to pop inside and check it out when a shadow surrounded her.

"Typical," the shadow's owner snorted.

Levy whirled. Gajeel stood there as nonchalantly as if they'd planned to meet, without even the decency to be out of breath like she was.

Anger was her friend, a joyous strength rising in her chest.

"What. The. Fuck. Do you want, metalbrain?" she burst out.

He didn't take a step back this time. The twist of his mouth rearranged his piercings as he glared.

Swooping in, his face registered in Levy's mind as being much closer than it should be before his lips latched onto hers.

Levy gasped. The kiss swept through her frame like wildfire, freezing her muscles into place even while her tongue busily probed at his mouth.

Gajeel pulled back up, staring down at her (and damn it, he was too tall for her to lean in and make him kiss her more), his expression calmly austere.

"Nice. You finally figured out how to insult me, smartass," he rumbled.

Levy would've considered it a horrendous attempt at conversation if she hadn't detected the quiver in his voice. It was…a compliment?

"You look lobotomized with your mouth hanging open like that," Gajeel observed with his usual level of tact. He rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine."

With that, he bent over and kissed her again.

Levy's heart crashed against her ribs. She was ready this time, instincts kicking in and both hands threading into his hair to hold him there. Levy drew his body against hers, felt his hands creep around her waist.

Gajeel tasted like, well, iron. It had hints that were like the taste of blood, but not so unpleasant—more dusty and dark. He also tasted human: warm and smooth and welcoming…

Levy melted into him. She didn't ask why this was happening or how long or what next. Her brain turned off and the world faded into this moment. With this bare-chested human.

If he'd tried to pull away, she would've held on, but Gajeel actually tightened his grip on her, lifting her until she was balancing on her toes, her chest pressing against his toned muscles.

The only word in Levy's mind was _please_.

Someone whistled and just like that they were breaking apart, a flurry of shuffling feet and shaking hands that brushed across flustered faces. The middle of a public street. With Gajeel. Oops.

Just as Levy was telling the frantic flutter in her stomach it was over, Gajeel jerked his head to the side and said, "C'mere."

Automatically she followed him around the corner, down an empty alley which wandered along the back of the shops. In the shaded corner of two buildings, they moved with one mind without saying a word: Levy pulled him in and Gajeel pressed her against the wall.

Gajeel bent down—he would have to bend down, dammit—to kiss her, but Levy's lips found his neck. She sucked a line across the tendons that pulled taut as Gajeel gasped, actually gasped, at the surprising touch. Heat welled up in her belly at his reaction. Grinning against the sweaty skin, Levy nibbled his neck.

Apparently that broke the control Gajeel had over himself, because suddenly he was hoisting her up, one hand under her ass, and bracing her against the wall while his other hand caressed her face.

Those fingers slid slowly down her neck, across her collarbone, and down her arm. Levy's heart thrilled at the touch. Shivers broke out over her skin, but there was also a melted warmth filling her, because he was being so much more tender than she ever imagined he would be.

"Gajeel—" she panted, the word full of desire. Not just the erotic desire she always let herself feel on this day, though there was a definite pressure building in her crotch. She wanted this new, gentle part of him too. The part of him that was staring at her with a fearful eagerness she'd never seen on him before. The part of him that was holding her tighter than necessary so she didn't fall from his arms.

Levy wanted _him_.

"C-Can I…" his voice disappeared, possibly because it had risen too high for his vocal cords to actually function.

Levy grinned at him, her body luminous. _"Please."_

Hot breath blew across her shoulder as Gajeel sucked a hicky onto her collarbone. Levy moaned, wiggling her shoulders so the straps of her dress fell and gave him more skin. His breathing hitched at the offering, light kisses trailing over her.

Smiling at the reverent gentleness, Levy wondered if she would have to push things along herself. But without warning, he changed from slow to fierce, mouthing at the increasing amount of bare skin above her breasts as her dress slid further down. Levy cried out and shuddered, heat rushing through her and leaving hard nipples in its wake.

A callused hand ghosted over her still-covered breasts.

"Fuck, Gajeel!" Levy could hardly breathe, joy was sparking through her so hard. "More…"

Gajeel looped his fingers around the top hem of her dress. He pulled the cloth down one centimeter at a time, kissing each spot of bared skin as he did so. Levy no longer felt any need to speed him up: every touch was pleasure.

She shuddered when he grazed his fingers back and forth over the curve of her breasts. Levy knew she was smaller-chested than most girls, but she was still proud of her pert boobs—and their size meant she didn't have to wear a bra if she didn't want to.

Gajeel apparently loved them too, for he tugged her dress to her waist and breathed, "perfect."

Happiness bubbled in her stomach as he stared, and then his lips met her skin and her moan echoed down the alley.

He sucked on a nipple and Levy lost herself in his mouth.

Teeth grazing the nub, Gajeel swirled his tongue in circles until she was shuddering and straining. When he pulled away, the cold air shot more excitement through her—she was ready to burst. The realization that she was half-naked in a public alley with the Iron Dragon kissing her breasts only heightened everything.

He was kissing the other nipple now, thumb rubbing over the wet breast he'd left behind. It was all too much. Levy exploded: her shaking thighs squeezed and an orgasm flared between her legs, sending light through her.

She was crying his name, but Gajeel didn't stop. Readjusting their position against the wall, he kissed her and slipped his tongue between her lips, stopping her grunts with one of his own. Their bare chests pressed together, his muscles quivering, and that's when Levy realized this was affecting him just as much as it was her. Satisfaction trilled over her.

Gajeel was shaking too hard and they slid down the wall, Levy not caring about the boards scraping her back. Her feet touched the ground on either side of Gajeel's knees, putting her head above his for once.

Unable to stand if she tried, Levy was grateful for the hand on her ass which, she realized, was inching down, fingers curving between her thighs…

"G-Gaje…" She couldn't even say his name anymore.

"Still want more?" he whispered into her neck.

"Fuck," Levy groaned. "Whatever you want to do to me."

His fingers tightened.

Still supporting her, he slipped both hands up her legs, pushing her skirt up while he traced mesmerizing patterns into her skin. When he reached her hips, he grunted in surprise: Levy had seen no reason to wear underwear if she was going to sit around deliberately getting wet by staring at a sexy Iron Dragon Slayer. One thumb slid down and Gajeel discovered just how wet and turned on she really was.

"Damn, Levy," he grinned, and she was enjoying his smile so much she almost missed the fact that he'd used her real name.

Possibly for the first time ever.

Her dress was bunched at her waist now, leaving her essentially naked in the delightfully chilly air. She wanted Gajeel stripped down too, wanted to take in the lines she'd only gotten to imagine previously—and she wanted to climb him and ride him until the pressure building in her again released.

Ducking down, Gajeel licked up her thigh and descended on her with tongue probing. Writhing eagerly, Levy fisted her hands in his hair. Then his exploratory sucking found just the right spot and she let out the loudest moan yet.

"Yes! Shit, Gajeel—"

He hoisted one of her legs over his shoulder, surprising her until she realized that to him she must weigh almost nothing. While he kissed and lapped, Levy reached up and fondled her breasts, tweaking her nipples until lines of fire were streaking through every part of her body.

He was buried in her, eyes closed as he pressed his tongue against her clitoris, sucking the flesh, moving his lips across her just so—

Light filled her being, white, seeing nothing, feeling everything. Levy's knees officially gave out, thankful his hands were there to clutch her ass and catch her. Everything about him was perfect, this moment was perfect, and everything was suffused with warmth. Levy felt content about everything in her life.

She felt content about the man between her legs. She wouldn't mind keeping him.

"Happy birthday, shrimp," Gajeel whispered, wiping his mouth on his arm.

Breathless, Levy beamed.

He stood first, holding her to his chest—at first she thought he was still trying to prop her up, before she realized he just wanted to hold her. When Levy made no move to cover herself, he carefully pulled her skirt down and slipped her straps back onto her shoulders, brushing across her breasts one last time.

"Stopping already?" Levy panted when she was certain she could talk again.

"What, not good enough?" he asked in a mocking voice.

"Oh, you're plenty good enough. That's the problem," she growled. "I want to ride you until we both explode, Redfox. My place, tonight, after the party. It's my birthday, so you better not turn me down."

His cheeks were glowing red, but behind the fluster was definite happiness.

"As you wish, o exalted shrimp."

"Prove it by kissing me."

"You're not demanding at all, are you?" he chortled.

"I can't very well kiss you, you five-story lobster."

Gajeel's eyebrows danced in amusement.

"You'd think a girl as smart as you would carry a stool around," he said, but she jumped and caught her hands around his neck, hanging from him until he lowered to her level.

Their lips met one final time, a burst of tinkling joy that settled in Levy's chest and didn't leave, even when they pulled away from each other and turned toward the mouth of the alley.

"My place," she reminded him when they reached the street. "Don't forget."

"Don't think that'd be possible," he rumbled.

Levy felt like dancing over the rooftops.

Belatedly, Gajeel added, "shrimp."


	3. Lucy & Erza, Ten Minutes

**Chapter 3: Lucy/Erza "Ten Minutes"**

 **A/N:** This is technically an expanded scene from The Love of Rivals. Gray, Erza, and Lucy are on a job; when Gray takes off on a midnight walk to think, the girls get up to mischief…

Dominant!Lucy ahead.

* * *

Erza was warm and solid and perfect, and Lucy couldn't take it anymore.

Erza always cuddled against her as the requip mage fell asleep, an old habit, but Lucy had always controlled herself perfectly. Yet when Lucy woke in the middle of the night with the redhead breathing softly on her cheek, her heart started pounding instantly.

Erza looked so peaceful and normal when she slept. The tough-girl act was gone and she was just…herself. Erza was muscle and curves, hard and soft.

Lucy couldn't resist: she kissed the other woman on the forehead.

Despite her gentleness, Erza woke up.

If Lucy had been in Erza's position, she would've kissed the woman immediately. But Erza didn't—didn't move at all in fact. Once the grogginess cleared from her eyes, she swallowed, blushed, and looked down.

It was so modest and un-Erza-like, Lucy nearly laughed. But then Erza gave her a look of wanting that was simultaneously scared and any urge to laugh fled. Lucy's heart stopped. She realized: Erza cared. A lot.

It took Lucy several moments before she got her voice and asked, "Can I kiss you?"

Erza gave a vigorous little nod.

Lucy kissed her slowly at first, sucking on Erza's lip and slipping her tongue deep into the other girl's mouth. Erza's breath made fast, hot puffs against her cheek while Lucy's heart beat a hundred kilometers an hour. Erza's taste, her warmth—it was better than all the fantasies Lucy had ever entertained.

Erza nibbled her bottom lip and Lucy was wrecked, pulling Erza's hip tight against hers and kissing her harder.

Lucy wanted more. Running a hand through Erza's hair, Lucy cradled the woman's head as she pressed Erza down into the futon and trailed light touches over her skin. She wasn't sure how Erza would react to the dominant gesture, but Erza released a sigh into her mouth, causing Lucy's belly to ignite with warmth and need.

Then they both remembered: they weren't alone.

They broke apart with a silly, embarrassed grin and looked over…to discover Gray was absent.

"Where'd he go?" Erza asked, voice trembling and husky. Gods, Lucy wanted to make her pant until she couldn't speak at all.

"I don't know, but I'm not complaining," Lucy murmured, kissing Erza into the futon again, this time rolling herself on top of the other woman and draping her legs across Erza's. After a long minute working her mouth across the other girl's, Lucy pulled up and stared down at the desperate face beneath her.

"May I take this further?" she asked.

Erza's nod was faster this time, more certain. Almost desperate.

"How far?"

Erza swallowed.

"As far you can before we're interrupted," Erza panted. "…All the way."

With a radiant smile, Lucy continued hovering as she took in Erza's lips, her long, kissable neck, and the strip of smooth skin diving down into the deep V-neck of her pajamas. Erza's chest rose and fell rapidly, her breasts straining against the fabric. As Lucy drank her in, Erza's eyes grew darker with held-in excitement.

"P-please?" Erza whispered, and the ache in her voice filled Lucy with liquid fire. Everything between her legs was wet now. Fuck.

When she dove down and sucked at Erza's neck, the redhead groaned. Lucy nipped at her, biting down to her collar bone, while Erza slipped her hands up Lucy's waist under the hem of her top. Fingers rubbed over Lucy's rib cage, eliciting a gasp.

Lucy had to stop kissing her in order to take a shaky breath. Erza's grin was satisfied and mischievous.

Grinning back, Lucy pressed one of her thighs between Erza's legs and got an immediate groan. The redhead thrust against her, movements grinding across Lucy at just the right angle and speed for both of them to shiver happily.

"Holy shit," Lucy breathed, "don't ever stop."

Erza only grunted in reply.

This was going a lot faster than Lucy usually went for a first time. Not that she minded in the slightest. But she wanted Erza naked, now. And if Gray returned...

Fuck it. That's what comforters were for.

 _As far as you can. All the way._

Sitting up, she undid the buttons of Erza's top as fast as her adrenaline-infused fingers could work. Lucy threw open Erza's shirt and Erza gave a little gasp as the cold air hit her already-hard nipples.

Bending down, Lucy let her breath ghost over Erza's left breast. Erza arched her back, her moan echoing so loud anyone in the hall would probably have heard it.

Lucy pushed Erza's top off her shoulders and traced fingers over Erza's strong biceps. With slowness she knew was aching to the other girl, Lucy kissed between her collar bones, trailing a line of tiny kisses across Erza's chest, down between her cleavage. Lucy's fingers explored the firm muscles of her abdomen: _gods_ , she was ripped.

Her lips grazed Erza's nipple.

"Lucy," Erza gasped, eyes shut tight in pleasure.

Lucy licked her tongue across Erza's breast, then blew on it so goosebumps broke out across her skin. Erza's back was now permanently arced upward, her arms spread wide gripping the bedclothes. She looked utterly abandoned, jaw open and tensing. Fuck, she'd never looked so beautiful.

Lucy moved to the other side and took the hard bud of Erza's nipple into her mouth, sucking, biting, licking in slow circles. Erza was so round and taut: Lucy could finger her breasts forever.

Wanting in on the action, Erza stripped Lucy's shirt off and pulled her up to capture Lucy's mouth in her own. Their breasts rubbed across each other, making their breath stutter and their kisses sloppy. Teeth collided and they laughed without stopping. They made out with hot passion, as if Gray were coming back any minute and they had to hurry—which, hell, could be true.

The potential for being caught made the ache sparking between Lucy's thighs tighten.

As if in answer, Erza's fingers slipped between Lucy's legs and began to rub soft circles around her clit through her pajamas. Shivers ran up Lucy's spine. Impatient, she ground into Erza's hand, letting out little cries as every motion made her muscles tighten further.

She was so close.

But she pulled away, straining against her own desire as a roguish grin spread across her face. _Oh no, Titania. I'm doing you first._

Lucy crawled down and yanked at Erza's pants. No underwear: that was a fun surprise. She lowered her face into Erza's hot wet crotch and applied her tongue in hard strokes. Erza was salty and thick on her tongue, and the redhead cried out.

Erza rose up on her elbows to watch as Lucy went down, but her eyes closed desperately when Lucy reached up and tweaked a nipple. Lucy pressed her whole mouth against Erza and began to suck. She slid her tongue down until she could just tip inside...

"Yessss, fuck me!" Toes curling into the comforter, Erza panted, "Lucy, fuck, Lucy, oh gods, I'm going to—"

Lucy sucked harder, bearing down with her tongue, and Erza's hips bucked. Face tightening, Erza fell apart. Her legs clenched against Lucy's head and she gasped out Lucy's name in one long breath, breasts heaving.

It was the most gorgeous sight Lucy had ever seen.

She reached down and rubbed herself, groaning into Erza's crotch. The redhead tensed and shuddered, pleasure extending as Lucy licked her softly.

Erza collapsed back, shaking.

Lucy kissed her through the aftershocks, avoiding Erza's oversensitive clit and tonguing at her vagina.

"That...was..." Erza broke off, airless and speechless. She looked down at Lucy with a reverent, luminous smile.

Lucy slid up the length of Erza's body and stretched out on top of her, kissing her gently on the lips.

"Was it just me," Lucy asked, "or was that fast? That seemed fast."

"That was fast," Erza laughed. "Nobody's ever made me come in under ten minutes before. Holy gods, Lucy."

While Lucy chuckled in a very unladylike way, Erza's fingers found their way inside the hem of Lucy's underwear, and suddenly Lucy's breath cut off.

"Oh fuck." Lucy couldn't help it: the words tumbled out. She was so ready and Erza was incredibly skilled with her hands. Pushing Lucy's underwear down, the other woman slipped a finger inside of her and, finding plenty of room, pushed in two more. Her palm ground across Lucy with every thrust. Holy shit, holyshitholyshit—

It was heaven the way Erza cupped and played with her breast, the way her teeth tugged on Lucy's bottom lip, every kiss somehow more passionate than the last. Lucy thrust against her like the world would end.

The pleasure seemed to go on forever until, with a strangled grunt, she came into Erza's hand. She was gasping against Erza's neck, smelling the soft scents of vanilla and sweat, the world around her fuzzy and warm. She kicked her underwear off the rest of the way so her sticky body lay open to the air.

Erza caressed her face, a tender smile creasing her eyes. "I don't know what to say."

"I didn't mean for it to go this fast on day one," Lucy whispered through a quiet laugh. "I mean, one thing led to another rather quickly because both of us damn well wanted it, and I don't regret this at all, I just..."

Erza's eyebrows pulled together slightly.

"No!" Lucy exclaimed, running her fingers through Erza's hair, "it's not that! Fuck, I loved this. Erza. What I'm trying to say..."

She took a deep breath.

"I was going to ask you out first. Make sure this was okay, that…that you're okay…" Lucy swallowed. Time for post-coital truth. "I like you. When we get back to town, can I take you on a date?"

Erza didn't say anything, her eyes wide. Lucy wanted to move her hand up to see if the pulse in Erza's neck had sped up or not, to get some kind of physical affirmation. But she stayed still: it was Erza's turn to make a move now.

 _I like you._ Now Lucy felt like the vulnerable one. As the silence stretched, she found herself filling it with explanations.

"I'm okay with this being whatever you want it to be. I just...I want to take care of you."

Lucy cut off, realizing her heart was pounding as hard as when Erza had handfucked her. She was anxious as hell.

Erza slowly caressed Lucy's arm. Up and down, up and down, like a nervous tic, albeit a pleasant one.

"I'd like that," Erza said softly.

"Going on a date?"

"Yes. And more…?" She said it like a question.

Lucy didn't have to look up to know Erza was as anxious as she was. She wrapped her arms tightly around the requip wizard— _my wizard_ —and sighed happily.

"And more," she agreed. "Definitely more."


	4. Sting & Future Rogue, From the Future

**Chapter 4: Sting/Future Rogue "From the Future"**

 **A/N:** Requested by raioseucliffe. I was originally planning this to be mostly smut, but a ton of angst happened too, and then I had to give it a happy ending. Thus it's quite long...

I write agender Frosch (they/their/them), according to the Japanese use of genderneutral classifiers for them.

(Spoilers for Daimatou Enbu Arc.) Canon AU. Mirai/Future Rogue goes in search of his predecessor to make sure he stays alive, but runs into a different Dragon Slayer instead.

* * *

Future Rogue flew across the cracked stone, cursing himself for not doing this sooner. Of course the dragons couldn't be trusted to make sure this timeline's Rogue stayed safe. He had to do it himself, dammit, even though he had important things he should be doing right now.

Sensing familiar magic around the next bend, he emerged from shadow into man and whipped around the corner, almost colliding with the Dragon Slayer.

Only it wasn't this timeline's Rogue Cheney, it was—

"Sting," Rogue gasped.

He felt like he'd been punched in the solar plexus staring at that familiar face, blue eyes that were always, even now, on the edge of smiling, frizz of hair exactly how he remembered it.

Sting's expression was surprise, but recognition too. Like he knew this wasn't _his_ Shadow Dragon Slayer, but still knew it was Rogue somehow.

"H— Rogue?" Sting asked.

"Sting." It was the only word in Future Rogue's dictionary right now. As if he was a broken movie lacrima playing fragmented clips.

Trepidation slunk into Sting's eyes. Rogue tried to shake off the feelings assaulting him: his Sting was _dead_ , this was not real—just past, just a memory. A walking, talking, breathing memory whose smell was surrounding him, more familiar than his own skin. Making his heart race.

It was just surprise; that was all. He would recover momentarily.

"Who are you?" Sting demanded as he slid subtly into a fighting stance. As if Rogue wouldn't notice.

"I'm from your future," Rogue said, shock making him honest.

Sting began to tremble. "Rogue…from the future?"

The White Dragon Slayer took a half-step toward him, hand reaching out then jerking back.

"Are we together in the future?" Sting asked.

Rogue gawked. Of course this would be the first fucking thing out of Sting's mouth. He'd forgotten what his partner was like: always a romantic first and foremost, logic coming second (or third or fourth or fifth… Future Rogue couldn't help a small smile at remembering).

"Where I come from, you're dead," Rogue said, voice more hollow than he meant it to be. He didn't add, _I killed you_. No need to ruin the moment.

 _Sting is standing in front of me…_

"Oh. Okay." Sting swallowed. "Were we ever…?"

"Yes."

Sting's eyes glowed happily and Rogue felt a tiny piece of his nonexistent heart break open. Oh, Sting.

He shouldn't be feeling like this. Rogue came here to do battle, his dragons were fighting across the capitol, and his past self was still in danger. He was shadow nowadays, not human anymore: a purer form of power. No longer able to be hurt by anyone, because he was the darkness that crept into people's souls.

But Sting's presence was shining a light into his shadows like he always had. Trembling, Future Rogue was actually experiencing… _weakness_. For the first time in a long time.

Future Rogue had a wonderful and highly-distracting thought pop into his head. One last kiss?

These feelings moved through him in an instant, and in the next, Sting was asking, "Why are you here?"

Rogue paused.

"To protect my past self." And then, because he couldn't help himself, "Sting, I…would… I miss…"

Reading Rogue's mind like Sting always had, moving together like they always did, both men took a step forward, Sting grabbed Rogue's arms, and Rogue crashed against his mouth.

White fire burned through Rogue's body, consuming him the way only Sting could. They were a flurry of lips and tongues and breath, gloriously alive. Sting slipped an arm around his waist and drew Rogue in while Rogue cupped his face, trailing fingers over Sting's jaw.

 _This can't be real._

After six years of disuse, his walls against Sting weren't strong enough to keep the White Dragon out anymore. Instinct was throbbing through him telling him this was right: he belonged right here.

Sting's tongue slithered softly around his and Future Rogue stopped trying to fight.

* * *

Rogue cradled Frosch in one arm, the Exceed being injured—granted, it was minor, but Rogue still insisted on holding them.

There were dragons everywhere: this is what he, Rogue, existed for. He had to find Sting. It was unthinkable to do this without his partner, like trying to fight without breathing.

Following that warm, tangy scent, Rogue sped around a corner and there he saw Sting.

Kissing another man.

Rogue went slack. Only Frosch squirming kept Rogue from dropping them.

The astonishment curled darkly through his stomach as he watched Sting's grip on the man tighten. The man, who had quite handsome white and black hair trailing down his back, pressed into Sting, making a noise of desire, touching Sting in all the ways Rogue had always wanted to. Jealousy sprang to life.

He was on a battlefield with no time for this sort of thing, he knew, but it was that fact which fueled the strange feelings shifting in his chest. They had no time for this, and yet Sting had deemed kissing someone more important.

Sting had dated girls before and Rogue had never envied them like this. At the end of the day, he knew Sting would come home to him, sleep next to him, wake up with him. Sting's sexuality might be aimed at girls, but his closest relationship of all was with Rogue. Sting was his in the way that mattered.

Plus, there'd been those two times, late at night and with Sting more than a little tipsy… Technically Rogue had gotten to take Sting's virginity, and had gladly given Sting his own, first trading blow jobs, then a second time when Sting fucked him—

When Sting had fucked him. Drunk, because that's the only way Sting would have him, the only way Sting could stand it, apparently. Rogue facing away from him so Sting wouldn't have to look at his face. The face of a man who loved him.

Rogue was pathetic when it came to Sting. But he'd always kept it inside before now.

As far as Rogue had seen, Sting had never kissed any girls with as much passion as he was currently kissing the bastard in his arms. Sting's fingers trailing over the man's side, one hand in the man's long hair, kissing him with a look of utter satisfaction. Rogue snarled at the revulsion twisting his gut.

Maybe Rogue didn't know his twin as well as he'd thought.

He took several menacing steps forward, unable to stop himself. He was going to rip Sting away from his lover: dammit, they needed to fight dragons right now and Rogue couldn't do this alone. Later, Sting could run back to his boy and make out all he wanted, Rogue would try to move on. But not right now.

A dragon's growl ripped from his throat.

The two men whipped around. They dashed apart, possibly from embarrassment or possibly from the violence Rogue's expression promised.

But upon seeing them, Rogue froze. His anger swirled with confusion.

 _What the fuck?_

* * *

Gods dammit, it was Rogue.

The _real_ Rogue, the one Sting had known every day of his life, so it felt like. The one he was very quietly in love with. And who was now staring at Future Rogue with daggers in his eyes.

Sting could still taste Rogue's— _Future_ Rogue's—lips. His heart was still pounding with excitement, but a gaping hole had opened up in his stomach.

"Who the hell is that, Sting?"

Sting felt their mutual trust shredding into threads, felt distant pain coursing through his heart. Sting was grateful Rogue still directed the question to him at least. A little bit of their relationship remained intact.

"This is you," he said as calmly as he could, breath like a whirlwind. "This is your future self: Rogue Cheney."

While Sting couldn't blame the disorientation on Rogue's face, he didn't understand the vicious fury there. Sting tried subconsciouly to massage out the ache in his chest; Rogue needed him right now.

"What," Rogue growled, turning his eyes onto his future, "did you do to Sting?"

"Hello, Rogue." Future Rogue smiled. "I've been looking for you."

Sniffing the air and tilting his head, Rogue narrowed his eyes.

"Why?"

"To make sure you stay alive." Future Rogue took a step forward. "If you die, I die."

"Right. Because you're me?" Rogue spat.

Sting was looking back and forth between them, wondering if he should intervene, but could you really step between a man and his self?

Another part of him held back due to a deeper fear, worried what Rogue thought about Sting kissing Future Rogue. It felt on some level the same as kissing Rogue himself.

Was that why Rogue was so furious—Sting had essentially just kissed him?

"I'm you seven years in the future," Future Rogue went on. "You're going to become me."

"If that's true," Rogue took a deep breath, "then why the _hell_ do I sense Sting's magic in you?"

Rogue's shout made the other two take a step back. For a moment, shadows quivered around Future Rogue, but he stayed standing, fists at his side. Sting's Rogue was not so reticent: magic poured off him visibly.

"He…gave it to me." Future Rogue's pause didn't get past anyone. "My Sting is dead."

Rogue's face went white.

His disbelief was wiped away as he staggered and put his hands on his knees. The horror in Rogue's eyes mesmerized Sting. Rogue cared for his twin, naturally, but right now...the look on his face was a whole new level of protectiveness and devastation.

Gently laying Frosch on the ground (a move Future Rogue followed with hungry eyes), Rogue faced them slowly. He breath came in heavy pants.

"When?"

Future Rogue frowned at him.

"When will he die?!" Rogue bellowed.

Future Rogue's expression cleared, though a darkness still lingered in his eyes as he said, "You don't have to worry. You'll be fine."

Sting's mind whirled at that. His death must have something to do with the dragons, then, if that future were already changed. Perhaps Future Rogue had come here both to protect himself and stop whatever triggered Sting's death.

For some reason, he was less concerned with his mortality than he was with Rogue's current emotional state.

But then Rogue's intense gaze pinned on Sting, who found his pulse speeding up as their eyes met. Dear gods, fighting a dragon would be a lot less complicated right now.

"Why were you kissing him?" Rogue asked coldly.

"I—" Future Rogue began.

"I wasn't asking you."

Sting glanced between the two Rogues. One with black hair, one half white. One with a small scar across his face, the other missing an eye. One glaring furiously, the other who apparently had loved Sting. It was clear so much had changed between one and the other, but at their core they were the same. Both staring at him with expectant red eyes.

"You fall in love with men now?" Rogue asked, angry.

"No," Sting said, finding his voice. "No, Rogue. Just you."

Everything in Sting's insides stilled. The truth.

To his surprise, Rogue looked livid.

"Really, Sting? Why didn't you say anything? Ask me out? I would've said yes. You never even asked me what I thought!"

Sting choked, the floor disappearing under him. He was sure he was falling. He felt Future Rogue's gaze sweeping back and forth between them: how odd this must be for him.

"Why the hell were you all over him, Sting?" Rogue waved a scornful hand at Future Rogue. "Why were you kissing him when you could be kissing me?"

"I-I don't know," Sting stammered. He hadn't really thought about it: the man had smelled like Rogue and looked like Rogue, so when he leaned in, wanting, _of course_ Sting kissed him. Rogue had never expressed interest in kissing him before. "I guess I thought it was the same thing."

"Baka," Rogue rumbled. He shook his head, staring up at the sky. "I don't know what to think right now. Fuck. I'm going to go fight dragons. It's what we should be doing."

"Wait!" Sting and Future Rogue leapt for him at once, but Rogue's pained glare made Sting stop and grab Future Rogue's elbow.

"We'll talk about it later, Sting." Rogue choked, glancing at Future Rogue. "Frosch, c'mon."

As Rogue turned and walked away through the rubble, Sting could feel Future Rogue straining against his hand, wanting to go after his past. Sting knew better than anyone the Shadow Dragon Slayer needed time alone. Rogue was a loner, a thinker. He'd come back eventually, when he was ready.

For now, Sting just hoped his own insides didn't break open.

When Future Rogue began to swirl with darkness, Sting swung him around and dove into his mouth. Moaning, Future Rogue stayed corporeal and moved instantly into Sting's arms.

Fuck. He tasted so good.

Sting groaned, running his hands over every part of Future Rogue he could reach. This Rogue liked him. This Rogue wanted to kiss him. This Rogue made him believe things could happen.

"I want to know what he likes," Sting muttered, breathless. "What you like, Rogue. Teach me what I do that you love most."

"I love when you fuck me," Future Rogue said at once, neck burning beneath Sting's lips.

Out of curiosity Sting bit his flushed skin, causing Rogue's fingers to dig into his side. It took Rogue a moment to go on.

"Shit…you—he let me face-fuck him. And he always did _that_ to me," Rogue groaned as Sting bit him again.

"Show me."

"Fuck…right now?" Future Rogue panted.

In response, Sting slid his hands under the man's shirt.

"Rogue," he whispered, the word falling so light and effortless. He wanted to do this to Rogue over and over. Forever. This might be the only chance he got.

Sting's stomach twisted. He wanted to be showing _Rogue_ how much he loved him, but if this future version were the best the universe could do, fuck him if he was going to pass this up. For these desperate minutes, Rogue could be his: he moaned into Sting's kiss and shivered at his touch.

Sting felt it the moment Future Rogue surrendered.

When Sting stripped Rogue's shirt off and attacked his face again, Rogue gasped and melted against him. Gods, it was too easy. Like Rogue was ready, like Rogue actually wanted him. _Rogue wanted him._

Rogue's hands traveled over him like Sting was pre-mapped terrain, twisting his nipples and eliciting a satisfying grunt from Sting. Sting pulled his own top off, cupped Rogue's face, and kissed him hard, shoving Rogue up against a crumbling stone wall. Pushing his tongue into Rogue's mouth, he reveled in every little moan as he rubbed up against the Shadow Dragon, wanting to pleasure him in every way possible. They were both hard, long gone to each other's touches.

Sting's fingers tangled in Rogue's long hair, sweeping it from his face so Sting could kiss around his scarred eye. Rogue bit him, right on the throat, and his teeth were everything Sting had imagined.

When Sting started unfastening Rogue's belt, the latter was already grunting. "Oh, gods…"

Sting couldn't agree more, dropping Rogue's pants and feeling along his length with an eager hiss.

"Shit, Rogue, I forgot how big you are."

"Good thing I bottom," Rogue panted through a smile. " _Fuck._ It's almost like you've done this before."

"I _have_ done this before," Sting said, stroking him harder.

"That's right…" A grin spread across Future Rogue's face. "We got drunk and decided it would be a good idea to be each other's first."

"You got drunk; I was pretending."

"I know." Rogue pulled him into another kiss. "I was pretending too."

Sting glowed, fire igniting in his chest. Faking? His brain tucked that away to assess—later.

Palming Rogue's balls, Sting kissed him fiercely then slid onto his knees.

* * *

Future Rogue was almost afraid his legs were going to give out as Sting took him in his mouth. It was everything he'd forgotten: heat and light and Sting's tongue curling around him while joy raced up his spine. Sting sucked the darkness out of him, filled him up with holy light.

Future Rogue's hand found its way into Sting's blonde hair of its own accord, getting lost in the tight curls, a texture he'd felt nowhere else. When Sting moaned around him and pressed against Rogue's palm, Rogue got the message and thrust into Sting's mouth.

The tight ridges of Sting's throat almost had him coming right there. Gods, it had been so long. Trembling with tense desire, he got a better hold on Sting's head and thrust into him, over and over, feeling the soft scrape of Sting's fangs, the pressure of his lips working Future Rogue's cock.

Breath coming in heavy puffs, Sting shut his eyes, cheeks hollowing as he relaxed in order not to choke. He was so beautiful. Rogue couldn't believe how much he'd missed this.

Rogue fucked Sting's mouth until the air twisted up in his lungs and his entire body went rigid. He shouted as he climaxed. Shoving deep, he came down Sting's throat, jolting with the pleasure of it, shuddering and losing all muscle tone to the warmth that washed through him.

Sting caught him before he could fall. As he pulled away from Future Rogue's spent cock, he licked his lips, swallowed experimentally around his abused throat, and stood up.

"How was that, Rogue?" he whispered gently, combing fingers through Future Rogue's hair. Rogue always loved when Sting touched his hair.

"S-Sting." The word was magic, a door that opened him up, showed him sides to himself he thought were buried. "It was amazing."

The White Dragon Slayer beamed with so much relief it hurt.

"My turn," Sting hummed, running soft hands over Future Rogue's thighs.

Rogue's answer was wanton. "Yesss, fuck me..."

Pressing him harder into the wall, Sting lifted one of Rogue's legs and held his fingers before Rogue's lips.

"Help me get you ready."

Rogue sucked his fingers eagerly and Sting reached down between his thighs and oh. _Oh._ It had been too long, Rogue keening as he relaxed and Sting pushed in. He forgot everything, about dragons or time or keeping his other self safe. All that existed was him and Sting.

"Nng, Sting," he whimpered, squeezing around Sting's second finger. When Sting scissored into him, he felt the pain of not doing this for so long, but eventually it transformed into familiar sensations, and then Sting found the right spot and Future Rogue cried out.

Sting's fingers leaving him prompted Rogue to open his eyes, finding the blonde wizard smiling shyly at him. "I guess I remember more than I thought."

"Sting…"

Future Rogue really was ineloquent tonight, dammit. That was what he got when his dead lover came back from the grave and fucked him in an alley.

Sting leaned in and kissed him, but pulled away suddenly.

"I don't have a condom. Wasn't expecting to do this, shit… Um, I'm clean."

"Me too. I've only ever been with you."

Sting gaped at him. Entranced, as if Future Rogue were magic. Those blue eyes were shining when he trailed a thumb over Future Rogue's lips. Their bodies were on pause while he took Rogue's mouth in the clearest show of _I love you_ Rogue had ever experienced.

It was true of both of them, he knew: they'd only ever had sex with each other. Rogue found that out after they were dating. He made some offhand comment about Sting's experience and Sting had glared at him, growling that Rogue was his first and only partner. Sting could never manage to get past kissing with anyone else.

Speaking of, gods, Sting could kiss. Rogue was breathless under his lips, sucking Sting's tongue, feeling fangs sink into his lower lip.

Future Rogue gasped as Sting grabbed Rogue's thighs and slid his hot cock up Rogue's ass.

Sting took him slowly, savoring every centimeter, mouth open in a silent groan. Digging his trembling hands into Sting's shoulders, Rogue whimpered and welcomed him in, focused on relaxing. His head smacked the wall behind him, but Rogue couldn't care less.

They both breathed deep with Sting buried inside him. Sting let Rogue adjust, distracting him from the discomfort by licking down Rogue's throat and nipping at him sharply. As his moan rose several octaves, Future Rogue jolted around Sting's cock, which stretched him suddenly but also shot thrills straight up his body.

He tensed deliberately around Sting—tensed, relaxed, tensed, relaxed—until Sting was an absolute mess. Future Rogue grinned as the White Dragon quivered with the effort of not moving.

"You said you'd teach me?" Sting gasped.

The words were an uncomfortable reminder that Future Rogue did not belong to Sting. He was a mentor, instructor. But that was okay: Future Rogue did not belong in this timeline. Here, now, Sting and Rogue's past self still had acres of pleasure ahead of them before the darkness caught up. That was how it should be. It was part of what made him.

Feeling nostalgic now, Rogue directed Sting where to angle himself, how to hold him, and finally told him, "Fuck me hard, Sting. I always liked it when you were rough."

"Even in the beginning when we...when we first started dating?" Sting asked, panting with the strain of holding himself still. His cock must be aching by now.

"Always."

Releasing a pent-up breath, Sting dove into him. He crashed Rogue into the stone wall, savaging his lips with a kiss that was all teeth. As Sting pulled out and drove into him again, Rogue shouted in ecstasy.

 _Just. Like. That._

Sting's moans tumbling into the night were like an offering to the gods. Sting fucking into him, hitting him hard with pleasure while they joined into one beast—Future Rogue knew of nothing more holy than this.

He was too spent to come again, but that was okay. It was worth it to see Sting come undone, feeling the sudden liquid while he watched Sting's face screw up in orgasm. Sting was always expressive when he came.

Rogue kissed his open mouth, breathing in the overwhelming scent of the only person he'd ever wanted.

* * *

"Sting." Future Rogue's deep voice called him out of the haze.

Sting pressed his face into Future Rogue's neck. He didn't want to confront the world just yet. He wanted a few more minutes of blissful pretending.

"Sting." Rogue's tone was firm. "We should go."

Running preoccupied fingers through Rogue's hair, Sting huffed. "Rather stay here."

"Oh, _honestly_. Are you going to pout all night?"

That sounded like the Rogue Sting was used to. Straightening, Sting didn't loosen his grip on this future version of Rogue as he sighed.

"I fucked things up with him."

"No, you didn't." Future Rogue tossed his head. "I should know."

"Did you discover your Sting fucking your future self too?"

"No," Rogue amended, "but even if you really did screw things up, go and make it up to him. Fucking apologize, Sting. It's not like either of you are in love with anyone else."

Sting snorted. "You're awfully confident." _For a guy who didn't live this future…_

"You're best friends, do everything together, and share the same fucking room at night. Your magic is like a perfect compliment. Am I missing anything here? Stop being a drama queen. I have things to do besides talk you down."

"You never change." Sting laughed, meeting his eyes.

The ghost of a smile played over Future Rogue's face. "One of us has to be practical, and it sure as hell isn't you."

"Okay." Sting pulled back, scrutinizing Rogue one last time before breaking away to find his clothes. They dressed and then looked at each other in awkward silence. "I'm going to find my Rogue. Are you…?"

Future Rogue gave himself a little shake. "No. I have…dragons to attend to. You'll keep him safe for me."

Sting's heart floated. Rogue wasn't asking: he was acknowledging. Future Rogue knew Sting cared too much to let anything happen to him. "You can trust me."

They parted ways.

Hours later, when the gate was destroyed and Crocus lay wrecked and burning, Sting stood panting beside Rogue—his Rogue. He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened with Future Rogue: some people were saying he'd orchestrated all this, but that couldn't be right. He had disappeared, that much was clear, and Sting was both relieved and broken.

His own Rogue held darkness in his expression, things curling unsaid through his thoughts. They hadn't said a word to each other. Finding him on the battlefield, Sting had skidded up to his side and they'd fought without any need for words. Because that's how they were.

Sting felt desperate at the idea of losing this perfect rhythm they had between them.

"Rogue, I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Rogue looked up at him, inscrutable. They were close enough Sting could've brushed the hair out of his face if he'd dared to touch him. But no matter what Future Rogue had said, he didn't feel worthy.

But Rogue didn't push him away or get angry: his fury had dissolved alongside Future Rogue's presence. Instead, he just looked tired.

"What I want to know," Rogue said.

"Is why I never said anything." Sting completed the sentence. "I didn't think you'd want me."

"Why would you ever think that?"

"I used to try to do things," Sting stammered, looking away. "But you were always pushing me at other people. You always asked what my dates thought or what girl I was going to ask out next. You tensed up when I tried to talk about serious things, remember? You only let me touch you when I pretended to be drunk."

"Pretended…?" Rogue stared at him. Anger still hadn't appeared in Rogue's face and Sting was feeling glints of hope.

"Why didn't _you_ say anything?"

"Because." Rogue looked away. "You always dated other people. Besides, I already had you. Because I'm stupid, I guess."

Sighing, Rogue closed his eyes, familiar exasperation crossing his face. Sting elicited that reaction from him daily, making him smile seeing it now.

"Instead of going off kissing someone who smells like me," Rogue said slowly, "just ask next time."

"Okay."

Sting paused. His nerves jumped. He'd fucked Rogue earlier; surely he could do this.

"Can I hold you?" Sting asked.

Rogue's red eyes flew wide. After a moment which stretched forever, Sting stiff as a pole, Rogue nodded.

Sting embraced him, seeking consolation, inhaling for the first time in too long. He'd hugged Rogue before, but this felt different after what had passed between him and Future Rogue. Or maybe it felt different because of the anger he'd seen in Rogue's eyes when Rogue thought he was taken. The fear when Rogue heard Sting would die. Revelations.

Rogue's arms circled around his waist and while Rogue didn't melt like his counterpart had, he wasn't stiff or resisting either. Sting leaned his head against Rogue's, super-hearing picking up Rogue's breath, his pulse, his shifting feet.

Sting murmured, "I don't want to date anyone else."

"Fuck," Rogue coughed, and Sting's stomach twisted like he was about to throw up. But Rogue went on, "If by that you mean you want to date me and only me, then yes, Sting. I'm done sharing you with other people."

Sting finally identified what the warble in Rogue's voice meant: Rogue was trying not to laugh.

"Did I ask that the wrong way?" he asked, a sheepish smile forming on his lips.

"Who cares?"

Happiness dripped through Sting's insides like fudge. If he'd thought Future Rogue was unreal, this felt even less believable.

Was it possible for two people to be as stupid as they were?

Sting rubbed Rogue's back, felt the heat of Rogue's very real body very really pressed in his arms, and grinned at the debris of the Eclipse Gate. _Thank you._

"What happened after I left?" Rogue asked. "Or do I want to know?"

"He, uh… You taught me what you like," Sting said, cheeks burning.

Rogue looked both suspicious and intrigued. "Like what?"

"Like this."

Sting had to fight down his crashing pulse as he leaned forward and nibbled Rogue's neck. He heard a small gasp. Grazing the skin, he sank his teeth in, groaning in spite of himself at the flavor of his favorite scent.

He was tasting Rogue, and even though he'd tasted this earlier, this felt new and wonderful.

When Sting pulled away, Rogue didn't speak: the shadow mage was shaking, pressing closer to Sting so he wouldn't fall over. Sting ran his fingers over the red spot on Rogue's throat in awe. He'd done that to _his_ Rogue.

"Do it again," Rogue whispered.

Fuck, Sting would do anything Rogue asked.

* * *

 **A/N:** I clearly have a thing for biting. Sorry guys, it's not going away. ;D Especially with all the excellent potential of Dragon Slayer fangs…

I'm not remotely into one-true-love sorts of things, but I feel like with Sting and Rogue that's how it'd go down. They've just kinda been together since forever, grew out of the age of innocence together…there really wouldn't be anyone else who could get in on that action, ya know?

If anyone else has requests, feel free to comment. Full disclosure, there are some pairings I just can't. But others like this one I never would've thought of on my own.


	5. Natsu & Gray, Mourning With Your Body

**A/N:** Major spoilers for Tartaros arc! Also has sad things. And lots of smutty things.

Summary: After each losing their fathers to Tartaros, Gray and Natsu seek comfort in each other.

 _You guys are always begging for uke!Gray and the Overcome storyline is still working up to that, so enjoy this in the meantime. ^^ I'm working on the requests for Rovia, Rogray,_ _more Erlu,_ _and more Mirai Stingue, as well as a few other ideas. Open to requests (as long as you're patient lol), including requests for nonbinary, trans, ace, aro, and other marginalized queer identities._

* * *

 **Natsu/Gray - "Mourning With Your Body"**

Gray found him in the rubble by Igneel's body. Natsu's silhouette was dark against the barest tint of the sky, hunched over and still. Totally still.

When he reached the Salamander, Gray crouched beside him and stared out over the smoke and fire. His boyfriend didn't want to be disturbed right now. Gray knew.

After a long time, Natsu rose. Rubble skittered under his foot. Gray looked up at him.

"I'm going away," Natsu said, still fixated on the unmoving dragon. "I'm going to get better. So I can…"

His words dropped off, but Gray nodded, standing. Choking out against a dry throat came the words: "Me too."

"I don't know how long I'll be." At long last, Natsu turned to him. "I'm sorry, Gray."

The words vibrated through him, but for some reason Gray felt tranquil. Even though he knew what Natsu was saying: that this was the end. But they'd always been together on the condition they didn't endanger anyone or fail in their missions. People were in danger now. E.N.D. was out there; Zeref was out there. Preparing for the coming battle was more important than living in the same house or sharing a bed.

Stepping closer, Natsu ran a hand over Gray's face and kissed him. It was a dark, slow kiss, Natsu's mouth cold against his. As Gray wrapped his arms around the Dragon Slayer, Natsu's tongue skated into his mouth and a hand wrapped around the back of Gray's neck.

He didn't want it to end like this.

Desperate, passionate, Gray drew him closer, parted his lips before Natsu's kiss. A growl reverberated through the Salamander's throat. It sent shivers through Gray: it was a low sound he'd never heard before, a grieving cry.

There was pain in Gray's left pec, swirling down his arm and thudding up across his temple where the darkness of Memento Mori had receded into him. It was something he should probably be thinking about right now, the darkness pounding inside his skull, but more pressing was every emotion orbiting his heart.

A majority were about his father, and he was avoiding those thoughts with everything he had. That left Natsu.

Only Natsu was safe.

Natsu was heating up against him, his inner fire spiking so much Gray wondered if it would burn him. But he didn't pull away. As the Dragon Slayer pressed him backward, tripping over the broken ground, Gray clawed at Natsu's sides. He didn't know where they were going, what was happening, but he didn't care because he trusted Natsu and he wanted more of this kiss.

Cracked brick thumped against Gray's back, gritty on his bare skin. Kissing Natsu's eyebrow, his cheek, his forehead, Gray hardly noticed himself moaning. When Natsu nosed at his neck, the ice mage broke away panting.

"Natsu…" He felt carefully along the Dragon Slayer's scarred torso. He didn't know if he could ask for what he wanted. If it even made sense. "Please…"

In answer, Natsu bit down on his shoulder. Though it scraped at recent injuries, Gray let out a loud groan.

Natsu shoved a hand inside Gray's pants and any self-restraint disappeared by mutual consent.

While Natsu's boiling fingers played over his cock, Gray was busy pushing off the tatters of his boyfriend's vest, touching his hard chest, memorizing every line of his body. Natsu was an animal, sucking on Gray's neck and stroking him with a heavy hand.

"I need," Natsu said hungrily.

"Please." Gray groaned again as he felt his pants sliding off his hips.

Natsu yanked the garment out of the way and began jerking him off in earnest. Gray couldn't even voice his affirmation, just tipped his head back and tried to remember to breathe. He had always loved the way Natsu's hands moved and the way his eyes darkened with intensity.

Having Natsu close at a time like this, that hot breath on his skin, was like going home. Their movements ached with all the things they'd lost. Maybe having sex here, now, was irreverent, but when all of life crumbled, you searched for the things and the people who made it worth living. You held onto them with everything you had.

Recovering his breath, Gray pushed his tongue into Natsu's mouth and devoured him. When he flicked his thumb back and forth across Natsu's nipple, he enjoyed the way the Salamander gasped, shivering like a storm was ready to burst out of his body. The hardening nub caught between Gray's fingers and he twisted, earning a grunt of pleased surprise.

Natsu's hand tightened around his cock, the squeezing pressure making Gray go airless in a moment. Thighs shaking, the ice mage pulled his boyfriend closer and sucked a painful hicky onto his collarbone. Natsu got the message.

The Dragon Slayer's free hand pinned Gray's hip to the brick, teasing his ribcage then sliding down his back to squeeze his ass. Gray's eyes widened, mouth open in a silent moan. When those fingers pressed into his flesh, it reminded him of hundreds of nights just like this one, on a too-small futon with a tangled comforter, naked, wanting, knowing each other.

"Natsu," Gray whispered, clinging to the fire mage's back. His nails were digging into the Salamander's skin, muscles rippling under his touch. "Bite me like you did that one time…"

The Dragon Slayer needed no more descriptions. Tilting Gray's head, he sank his teeth into the side of Gray's neck at the fleshy point just under his ear. His fangs broke the skin immediately and Gray cried out.

"Yes! Shit yes…"

The Salamander squeezed his cock and jerked so hard it was almost painful. But Gray was solid pleasure now, and he came hard, hips twisting and head hitting the wall. While he let out an exquisite array of noises, Natsu continued biting him, Gray emptying himself into his boyfriend's hand.

"Oh fuck, Natsu, fuck, you're amazing, fuck me, please, holy shit, fuck…"

Gray's words rolled out and Natsu's movements became unfocused, until he was shucking his own pants and pressing Gray up against the rough brick. His cock—hot and solid—pressed along Gray's thigh. His length promised pleasure: always promised pleasure. And delivered, too.

"Yes," Gray breathed, desperate—needy for this. Natsu's cock slid between his legs and he was so full he could fly.

All around them lay the exploded pieces that never could and never would be put back together. It was all over: Igneel was dead, and Silver was dead, and both he and Natsu were broken. Maybe they'd never be fixed again. Gray wanted to lose himself for a few perfect minutes.

The Salamander wrapped a hand around Gray's thigh while his other hand fisted his own cock and rubbed it under Gray's sack.

Gray shouted, need shooting up his spine once more.

Still fondling Gray's balls, Natsu bit out, "I don't have… I want to—"

"Fuck yes, Natsu. The answer is always yes."

Gray thrust his hips out to rut against him, movements restricted by Natsu's strong hand holding his leg up—even that constraint was glorious. Gray loved it.

They didn't have a condom or lube or anything, but _fuck_ he wanted. This might be the last time. "You know I'm clean, so if you want to… _please_ , Natsu."

Tears edged his voice. He needed this so much. He might fall apart without it.

"Gray." Natsu paused his movements. "Wait."

They both opened their eyes, fighting the daze of heated feelings to stare at each other.

"It'll hurt," Natsu said.

"I don't care," Gray replied. "It's only been two days since our last."

"Okay." The Salamander's voice went guttural. "I really want to."

Natsu spit in his hand and began feeling him. Slipping a little against the brick wall, Gray groaned and relaxed, easing onto the finger that slid inside him. The feeling wasn't as tight as it once was, in the beginning—so long ago now it sometimes felt like they'd always been together.

As Gray kneaded Natsu's broad shoulders, he felt Natsu's tongue trace his jaw. There was a lightness inside him, growing with every thrust of Natsu's fingers. It drove out all the dark thoughts and evil tensions this eternal night had brought.

The Salamander spit in his hand again to slick himself. When his cock pressed against Gray's ass, the ice mage threw his head back and let out a reckless sound of desire.

As Natsu hefted him against the wall, Gray's body melted against his, fitting against him from habit and experience. Natsu's hot chest rubbing against his made him feel so close to the Salamander, like he could pull Natsu into himself and have all of him. Weaving his arms around Natsu's neck, Gray kissed him. He was hurting so much on the inside; they were both hurting, but feeling that strong embrace was the greatest comfort in the world. Natsu wanted him, needed him.

The Salamander let out a growl of desire and his cock pressed up. Gray took him in.

The Dragon Slayer filled him slowly, ever careful even when they were both panting and thoughtless. Gray's fingers were trembling on Natsu's skin. He was desperate to forget, and the ache of stretching wide to let Natsu in was so welcome. Gray might never feel this again. He absorbed it all, wanting to remember this forever—wanting it to be special, no matter what Natsu would be to him after tonight.

Gray was grateful the Salamander moved slowly. Every time he pressed into Gray, it pumped him full of life, throbbing through his not-so-limp dick and constricting his throat: a wonderful, cloistered sense lodged in his chest. Gray felt fulfilled. Cracks sealed temporarily by Natsu's fire.

Tonight they'd both lost the thing they wanted more than anything else, but here Gray could glimpse it again. _Family_.

Natsu was a boiling inferno. As he thrust into his boyfriend, emotion pulled a low rumble from him, constant, a groan of pleasure that rolled on and on. Gray was lost, giving him everything, unable to keep up with Natsu's energy. Arms tightening around Natsu, Gray kissed him with every ounce of strength he had left.

Natsu's cock slid over that amazing something and Gray shouted.

"Natsu!"

The Dragon Slayer didn't halt for a second. Gray was too out of breath to kiss him, so Natsu dipped to his neck, sucking at the bleeding bite and then down his neck. No doubt leaving a line of hickies Gray would have for days.

Gray's feet weren't even touching the ground anymore, supported somewhere between the broken wall and a dragon's fingers digging into his bare thighs. His trousers were on the ground somewhere—he didn't really care; Natsu was the one who still had his pants around his knees. The man was paranoid about losing track of his clothing when they fucked out in the open like this, but Gray found it hot when Natsu screwed him with pants still on. Like the Salamander was just that desperate for him.

"Nn, Natsu," Gray grunted as the Salamander glided through him again and again. His balls were almost painful with the tension peaking inside him. "Soon…please…"

The fire wizard wasn't going to let him go just like that. Angling Gray's hips, Natsu pressed their bodies closer together so Gray's cock rubbed against Natsu's abdomen. It also meant a better angle, sharper pleasure with each quick thrust.

"Come for me," Natsu said, voice cracking as he spoke for the first time in so long. "Come on my body while I fuck you."

The words were too much. Toes curling, the ice mage shut his eyes and cried Natsu's name over and over. He felt it shoot through him, pressure and joy—knew from the sudden lack of friction he'd just coated the Dragon Slayer in cum.

Natsu sighed, long and satisfied, and kissed Gray's cheek. Then he was pressing into Gray with renewed rhythm, pulling small moans from his wrung-out partner.

When Gray squeezed deliberately around Natsu's cock, there was a startled grunt and Gray smiled. It was his turn to nip his way down the Salamander's neck, lick his collarbone, and run expert fingers over Natsu's chest. When he tweaked the man's nipples, hard, then harder, Natsu began to make the sounds Gray was used to: happy whimpers amid convulsive thrusts.

But he still hadn't come, even as Gray pulled Natsu's tongue into his mouth and nibbled on it.

"It's okay," he whispered against the other's lips. "Right here, everything holds together. Fill me up. I need you to fuck me one last time."

"Gray," Natsu gasped, slamming into him with sudden force. "Nn, Gray… _Gray!_ "

And then Natsu was coming, wet and warm in his ass, and Gray held him in strong arms and a tight embrace. He was saturated: even after this night was long over, Gray would carry some of this fullness with him. He would never run completely dry thanks to what Natsu gave him. When Natsu gave, it was with all of himself.

Natsu's shoulders jolted once, twice.

"Natsu."

Gray held him close, hand sliding up into Natsu's hair to press Natsu's face into his neck. Wetness dripped down Gray's chest.

He couldn't say it was okay, because it wasn't. He couldn't say he'd be here, because as soon as even tomorrow he and Natsu might be headed to opposite sides of the continent.

"Nothing will change this," Gray said.

A shuddery sigh ran through Natsu.

"We'll see each other again, right?" he asked, nose still snuggled into Gray's neck.

The ice mage thought of all he had left to do. The goals ahead—for both of them. How far it would take them, how much they would change, how likely it was one or both of them would die.

"Of course," he said, relaxing. "We're Fairy Tail. No matter what, we'll come back."

"Yeah." Lowering Gray carefully, Natsu pulled back just far enough to look him in the eye, a watery smile nudging his lips. "Of course."

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for all the sad. Comments?


	6. Rogue & Sting, Dragon Slayer Hearing

**Rogue/Sting – "Dragon Slayer Hearing"**

 **A/N:** A follow-up to "Mourning With Your Body." A little ways away on the battlefield, Sting and Rogue overhear _exactly_ what's happening between Natsu and Gray, and they can't help…reacting.

* * *

Sounds of people moving in the rubble didn't attract Rogue's attention. He was a Dragon Slayer: he heard sounds all the time.

But the pleasured gasp made his eyes fly open.

Right now? Inpublic?

Lying in the debris beside him, Sting shifted and groaned—a sound born of pain.

"You okay?" Rogue asked hoarsely.

"Mm."

When Rogue rolled onto his side, he found alert blue eyes staring back at him. He ran his gaze over his boyfriend's frame: no serious wounds. Rogue's own body was all aches and depleted magic from defeating Jiemma. And somewhere out there, their parents swooped, flew, destroyed Faces. Rogue couldn't process that: it didn't feel real yet.

"Like what you see?" Sting asked, licking his lips, and Rogue realized he was still staring at Sting's body.

"Um, yeah—" Rogue started, not sure how to reply, but the eager, breathless voice of Gray Fullbuster cut him off: "Natsu… _please_."

Rogue's face went redder than his eyes.

"Wow," Sting commented. "They're having fun. Out in public, too. Natsu-san should know anyone could overhear them."

"Sting!" Rogue hissed. Naming the perpetrator made it feel worse.

Propping up on an elbow (wincing as he did so), Sting looked in the direction the moan had come from. Instinctively, Rogue followed his gaze.

Rubble partially hid the Fairy Tail men, but their silhouettes were visible from torso up, one pinning the other against the wall. Moving down the other's neck…

Rogue whipped his eyes away, every part of him burning. Every part—the pounding blood of embarrassment was filling him _there,_ too. Rebellious body.

"Nice," Sting said, and Rogue glanced over to find Sting still observing the spectacle.

"Sting! Stop watching them…do things!"

"Why?" Sting looked at him innocently. "They're the ones who decided to fuck out here in the open."

With that, he turned back to the live show. That was Sabertooth's guildmaster for you.

"Sting, stop it," Rogue growled. "That's private. I don't care where they're doing it. We know them. We have to _fight_ _with_ them. I don't want to remember the sounds he's making next time I see that ice mage."

Sting faced him again.

"What do you suggest we do? I can't stop hearing that." He gestured toward the growing moans. "It's turning me on. Did you have a particular distraction in mind?"

"Not really." Rogue swallowed. "Maybe there's something."

Sting smiled. "Something. Yeah."

Sting shifted across the rocky ground, face centimeters away as he stared down at Rogue's lips.

Rogue was not as patient. Pulling Sting into a hot, frenetic kiss, Rogue drew Sting against his chest. His fingers slid around Sting's waist, playing up his ribs, delicately avoiding the tears in his vest.

Sting groaned. Softly, because they were obviously within hearing distance of another Dragon Slayer. But it was still a groan.

"Fuck," Sting breathed.

Taking this as a sign Sting's mouth wasn't occupied enough, Rogue bit his lip. A shudder ran through Sting and he wrapped an arm around Rogue's shoulders. Rogue tapped his tongue insistently against Sting's mouth. Need was growing in his belly.

Sting didn't just respond in kind: he sucked Rogue's tongue into his mouth and shifted his hand up into Rogue's hair, holding him close. They both breathed hard on each other's cheek. It went on and on, Sting drawing Rogue into himself, until Rogue was dizzy with it. When Sting's nails dragged down his back, Rogue pulled away, mouth open in tense awe.

"That, babe," Sting agreed emphatically. "Damn, you're hot."

He tore at Rogue's shirt until they managed to strip it off. Sting's mouth took over, kissing a path over Rogue's chin and throat. His sharp-fanged bites destroyed whatever logic Rogue might've had a few minutes ago.

Sting pulled back to stare down at him, reading over Rogue's body, taking it all in.

With a noise of protest, Rogue tried to pull him back by the hips. Those fleshy, hard-boned hips. Muscles rippled under Rogue's fingers as Sting let him slot their mouths together again. With soft kisses and touches, he pulled Sting back under with him, into each other. In this moment.

Sting's lips ignited Rogue's insides. It was all familiar, this joining together. His tongue sliding along the veins in Sting's neck. He blew Sting that morning, and the flavor lingered in his memory. He liked having his boyfriend under his lips—any part of him, all of him.

"Oh goddess," Sting whispered.

The tone of his voice made Rogue hungry.

Sting interrupted Rogue's experienced marking-up of his collarbone with a single, tiny touch.

A finger slid down Rogue's chest and stomach—just one, so gently. It left a line like fire over him. Muttering obscenities, Rogue trembled and Sting added another finger to the tantalizing touch, spreading out to explore across his pecs. While Sting felt and studied, he hummed contentedly and nudged Rogue's cheek with his nose. Enjoying. Loving.

Rogue closed his eyes and disappeared into the feel of Sting's hands on his skin.

Above them, the dark blue lightened and the horizon turned gold. There was something about making out in the aftermath of victory. An intensity of lying here, touching and kissing and giving themselves over to it. It affirmed them as partners: they were united.

Plus the continuous music of another couple going at it like squirrels was quite a turn-on. By the faint smell, Rogue guessed one of them had come already. Probably Gray: he was the one making all the noise. Which gave Rogue a mental image of Natsu fucking his hot boyfriend while the latter writhed in pleasure and—oh gods, focus.

There was, after all, an even hotter man licking the line of his jaw and trailing light kisses across his eyes and nose. Sting's scent, tinged in dirt and sweat, filled his nose. The smell of home. Sweet and effervescent.

Quietly, Rogue growled, "I'm keeping you. Forever."

"Fine by me," Sting hummed against his mouth.

Another kiss, simple, lasted for a long, long time.

With a little nudge, Sting tipped Rogue onto his back and collapsed on his chest. Rogue let out an 'oof'—even though he was used to this.

"Yeah, I get it: I love you too," Rogue muttered. "You're heavy."

"It's all that muscle I pack on to fight for your honor."

Rogue snorted.

"Hey, hear that?" Sting pushed himself up a little and cocked his head. "They're done."

The sounds of fucking had abated. Something else crunched in the gravel. Frowning, Rogue pushed up on his elbows.

"Is that—?" Sting began.

"Yes," Rogue said.

Too lazy to move, Sting was still lying on Rogue's chest when a head appeared over the half-exploded wall.

"You guys are loud kissers," Natsu said. "Just so you know."

"At least we don't fuck somewhere visible," Sting retorted.

Natsu's jaw dropped.

"You _watched—?_ I thought the stripper was the only perv around here."

"You didn't figure Sting in," Rogue spoke up. "I distracted him for you. You're welcome."

Natsu chortled.

"Fair." He looked away. "Thanks for your help. With Jiemma. With all of it. See you."

"Natsu-san, wait."

Sting rose as Natsu turned back, and Rogue brushed himself off and stood.

"Is Gray okay?" Sting asked.

Something strange passed over Natsu's face.

"Yeah. He'll be alright. He always is."

"Maybe so, but taking a curse like that—I don't care what magic you have; that's not good for you."

Natsu started, his mouth rounding out the words.

"Oh. Memento Mori." Rogue had no idea why Natsu looked so relieved. "Yes, yes, he's fine. He's Gray. He can take anything."

"Will you be fine?" Sting asked.

Natsu looked at him for a long moment. "I'm always fine too. That's how we are."

Sting sighed.

"Just be careful."

With a little wave, Natsu walked away. Sting looked over at Rogue.

"Are _you_ fine?" Sting asked.

"Yes. And unlike him, I won't lie to you," Rogue said seriously.

Sting gave him a relieved smile.

"Your lips are swollen."

"I wonder why," Rogue snorted. "Thank you ever so much, love. Also, so are yours."

Grinning, Sting stuck his tongue out.

"It's because you're a fucking amazing kisser."

Rogue leaned in and gave his cheek a lingering kiss. "Damn right I am."


	7. Lucy & Gajeel, Curiosity

**Chapter 7: Lucy/Gajeel – "Curiosity"**

 **A/N:** Lucy may be gay, but when she and Gajeel get talking, one thing leads to another and she asks if he minds…experimenting. Gajeel enthusiastically agrees.

Spin-off story from chapter 4 of "Fairy Tail Holiday Drabbles." During the drinking game, Gajeel describes his first time and Lucy realizes it was with her. Several people asked for that scene; here you go ^^

* * *

Lucy was leaning back against a broad, smooth-trunked oak staring skyward. She had time before dinner with Natsu and Gray that evening, and nothing to do in the meantime, and she'd realized it had been forever since she just walked around Magnolia. For no reason whatsoever.

The light weather of early summer had left the spring green on the trees, the day warm without being hot.

"Yo," a voice said in surprise, and she looked over to see Gajeel. He strode from the pathway down the little hill toward her.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Just walking. You?"

"Same."

They both hmmed.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

"Go ahead."

He sat cross-legged and leaned against the trunk beside her. She wasn't sure what, if anything, he expected to talk about; they were teammates, but most of their interactions happened in groups, and she didn't know Gajeel well as an individual.

"I never apologized," he said, "for before."

Lucy straightened.

"I forgive you," she said in surprise. "I did a long time ago."

"Yeah, but I wanted it to be verbal."

She smiled at him, waiting until he looked over.

"Here's verbal forgiveness," she said.

He smiled back. They fell into silence.

"I never told Natsu you didn't actually beat me up," she said suddenly. "I should probably clear that up. I mean, he's forgiven you by now, but…you know."

"I did hit you a few times," he said. His voice was low and emotionless.

"At least you didn't do what it looked like you'd done," she said. When they'd reached robotic monstrosity of a guildhall, he'd done a spell that made her look bruised, to her shock and without explanation. But it had kept his Phantom Lord guildmates from beating her.

"For the record," Gajeel said with a wry chuckle, "I'm sorry about your reputation."

"What reputation?"

"You never knew about that? When I pulled you away, I told Master Jose we were going to have some fun," he said. "You know. I intimated…fun."

"Good ruse," she said. "Again, I don't care and I forgive you. Besides, I'm gay as fuck, so if anyone important believed you, they're an idiot."

He smiled. "Same."

"About being gay, or about people's opinions?"

"Opinions," he snorted. "I'm bi."

She turned on him, suspicion alight on her face. "Would you have actually? If Natsu hadn't come? You were getting all close—"

He had been. Leaning over her and freaking her out a bit, and she hadn't complained because he _had_ saved her but… She had been so grateful when Natsu had shown up then.

"Gods, no," he growled darkly. "I'd only touch you if you wanted it. Goddess."

Relief settled Lucy's stomach.

"You're a good person, Gajeel."

"Thanks." He blushed red. Then he turned to her with a funny look. "You didn't want it, did you?"

"Hah. No. Pretty sure."

"Right. Gay."

"I wouldn't say that precludes fooling around with dicks," Lucy said. "I dated a trans woman for a long time."

"Huh. Were you curious about how it'd feel?"

"That's not why I dated her," Lucy said flatly.

"Obviously, I just meant…"

"I guess after we started dating, yeah, I had to ask her how she did and didn't want to touch," Lucy said, remembering. "I met her at school. I fell for her because she was smart and witty and sharp-tongued…"

Gajeel leaned forward with a look of interest.

* * *

They talked about relationships for a surprising amount of time. Lucy was startled to learn he was vulnerable one-on-one. They discussed falling in love, sex in relationships, and sex with women in general.

A topic which fortunately or unfortunately had Lucy remembering past lovers. She found, not very surprised, that she had grown wet from the conversation. If Gajeel knew, he didn't say anything—she noted briefly that his pants were lumpy, so he was probably more focused on his own hot thoughts.

What did bi men think about?

Suddenly, she said, "Okay, I am curious now. Don't take this the wrong way, or like this is just clinical or whatever, or…gods, just don't take this the wrong way, but do you…?"

She left off, blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Do I what?"

"Want to make out," she said.

Her face was burning now. She realized later that probably helped. If she'd made the request with a blank face, he might've said no; nobody wanted to feel like they were just being used. A blush meant there was awkwardness, which meant there was desire. And there was—she wasn't attracted to him, but she _was_ curious how a man would feel. And turned on from their conversation. The two feelings worked together in a feisty way.

Across from her, he shifted in his seat, facing her more fully while simultaneously glancing to the side.

"Yeah, sure," he said, and it took a moment for either of them to move. Then Lucy leaned in and kissed him.

He was a bit clumsy, quite possibly from startlement, but once they got going it turned good. Lips were lips, she decided. He might be a 'he' and thus not someone she felt emotional about, but consensual kissing _always_ felt nice. It sent pleasant hormones to the brain.

Gajeel scooted around, a hand coming to her waist. Lucy bit his bottom lip lightly. To her surprise, he made a small sound of pleasure.

Lucy always loved that. Loved when her girlfriends moaned and trembled and squealed. Knowing she was the one doing it. It made her feel like she could do anything.

For a moment, she forgot herself in the kiss.

Until her hand slid up his chest and found it sadly flat, and remembered again. But into the breach rushed memories of her last fuckbuddy, a guildmate who had small, perfect tits and tasted similar and loved to visit museums with her or sit inside reading books on rainy days and who was so good in bed, such an incredible fucker with thin, dexterous fingers…

Fuck.

"Either of us can say no at any point," Lucy murmured, pulling away just enough to speak as she moved around and straddled his lap.

"F-Fuck," Gajeel breathed. "You sure?"

"Like I said," she sucked on his mouth for a few seconds, "I'm curious. Let's see."

"Okay," he said, pulling her closer.

Lucy had closed her eyes when they began kissing, and she didn't open them through this exchange. She didn't want to see and be reminded. If he were an actual datefriend she'd be mortified by this, but they were experimenting, and he knew it, and he'd consented knowing that. So she didn't feel guilty when images from the last time she'd fucked a woman flitted through her. The way the woman pinched Lucy's nipples; the way her cunt squeezed Lucy's fingers…

Feelings shivered over her, landing down in her cunt with a pleasing thrill.

Gajeel's hands slid up her legs and gripped her ass. Lucy was caressing his neck, and she left his lips to kiss down the side of his throat. Gajeel curled his fingers under to brush the inside of her thighs. When Lucy moaned, she didn't feel ashamed in the slightest, and was somewhat amused to hear his grunt of surprise.

"Thought you, hahhh, didn't feel that way," he said.

"Just because you're a dude doesn't mean what you do doesn't feel good," she muttered. "That feels good regardless of who's doing the touching."

Or what—sex toys worked, too, after all.

He hummed agreement.

As she scraped her nails lightly over his stomach, he took over the kissing, sucking on her neck and holding her hair back to give himself more space. Lucy liked that, and let him know by pressing closer. She caressed the sensitive spot she'd discovered under his ear and was pleased when Gajeel let out his own moan.

With Gajeel moving to her collarbone and nipping small bites against her skin, Lucy immersed herself in her tactile senses, until he said hoarsely, "May I go lower?"

She considered for a long moment, the wet heat between her legs making a persuasive argument.

"Yes," she decided.

He drew the open neck of her shirt to the side as he kissed lower, giving himself access to the top of her breast. Goddess, his mouth was fantastic: growing more and more skilled, skimming over her skin before sucking harder.

Shifting her shoulder, she got the strap to fall down, and suddenly he had a _lot_ more space.

Gajeel groaned longingly.

"Go for it," she whispered. Her voice was shaking.

His lips plucked at her nipple and Lucy cried out. _Fuck yes!_ He kept going, exploring, hard and soft, faster, slower. She was trembling now. And when she remembered that one time she'd fucked a girl she'd only just met because they started making out and the girl could do such wonderful things to Lucy's to half…

Sliding her hand down his stomach, she rocked her hips suggestively and asked, "Okay?"

He hummed. "Yes."

Lucy shoved her hips forward and ground down.

She got all the hard resistance her clit needed. Gajeel jolted and whimpered, the sound stretching as she thrust herself against his clothed dick over and over. When he finally started moving again, Gajeel pinched her nipple and pulled her shirt down on the other side to keep doing the same.

"Fuck, I'm so wet," she groaned.

"Can I?" he asked. The hand on her ass slid over her hip to the front of her thigh.

"Not yet," she said, nervous, and he stopped, instead sucking harder on the side of her breast and _fuuuck._

Yeah, she was super turned on and dying to come. Yes, yes. But her gut wasn't stirring for him: was stirred entirely from the physical sensations and from the memories of naked women she pulled up when she wasn't writhing.

"I…don't want to do more," she said. "This is really good."

"Okay," he rumbled.

So he kept doing what he'd been doing. Lucy finally opened her eyes, looking down at her own bare breasts and watching his tongue leave a wet trail from one to the other. Pleasure shot through her and she thrust her clit against him again.

They were both trembling, both groaning as they bumped and frotted against each other. Lucy wrapped her arms around his shoulders for better leverage. The pleasure through her was so tight, so humid between her legs. She needed. She needed orgasm desperately.

He left her chest behind—naked and sensitive for more touch—and they made out again, hands roaming as they both sought more, more. Another thrust, another, as her vulva spasmed tighter, so close, and then Lucy launched into that paradisal plane, cunt quivering with aftershocks.

He was still thrusting against her moaning and she followed the movements, pressed hard to ride out the pleasure longer, sucked on the tendons of his neck as he finally cried out and came.

"Fucking gods," he muttered, over and over, mouth hanging open. "Fucking gods."

The pleasure receded into warm, slow-moving contentment. She gave him a fucked-out smile.

"Thanks."

"Think I should be thanking you," he said shakily.

"Mine lasted longer," she teased.

He chuckled, closing his eyes and leaning back against the tree's trunk.

"I am surprised," he said. "Albeit grateful, but also surprised."

She shrugged and began to slowly pull her shirt back on.

"It was you, but it wasn't you," she said honestly. "The kissing, the way you touched, well, everything…you're pretty amazing. But I didn't feel anything else. The mentality—I had to do that part for myself."

He nodded understanding.

"That doesn't offend you, right?" she asked.

"Nope. I had a good time. Had no expectations—still have none. You got your curiosity sated now."

It was her turn to laugh. He smiled. The look was good on him; she wanted to tell him to smile more around the guild, but it didn't feel like her place.

"Before you ask," he said, "I won't go around telling everyone about this."

"Oh," she said in surprise. "I wasn't worried about that. Whether you do or don't: up to you. I probably won't, unless it's a girlfriend or something. Think it would just confuse most people who don't know me well."

"I meant…so we can be friends."

"I don't take this sort of thing as preventative against friendship," she laughed. "I don't believe in making things awkward."

He returned her smile.

She slid off his lap at last and they sat on the grass breathing in for a few minutes. The silence was happy, comfortable; neither broke it.

"I think," he chuckled eventually, "that I need to go home and change."

"Yeah, sorry," she said, blushing again. "Didn't think about that."

"I did. Didn't really care."

He stood, wiping himself off, and they smiled and nodded to each other. Lucy didn't look down at his pants, and was impressed that he stood tall without covering himself. He really didn't have the shame she expected from someone who usually closed off.

"See you around," he said.

"Later. And Gajeel? It was nice talking with you and getting to know you better."

He smiled. "Same."

When he had passed down the road, she flopped backward into the grass. Post-sex happiness made her want to just stay here forever. But Gray and Natsu were expecting her for dinner and—

Fuck, Natsu's nose.

Lucy jumped up and looked toward her flat. If she hurried, she could squeeze in a shower… Using the scented soap. Lots of it.

Yes, this was Natsu, and she'd tell him anyway, because she told him everything. But it would be nice not to be teased the moment he opened his door.

* * *

 **A/N:** my lesbians are always so into nipples lol.

I am taking a holiday and can't write, edit, or post, so I figured I'd spam you guys with updates to tide you over ;)


	8. Lisanna & Juvia, Just a Cuddle

**Chapter 8: Juvia/Lisanna – "Just a Cuddle"**

 **A/N:** Earthland Juvia is her own brand of special, and Lisanna is falling hard.

For TK. ^^

* * *

The Edolas Juvia was daring, strong, and knew what she wanted. When Lisanna asked her out, Juvia said yes immediately. On their first date, they kissed and—since both were eager—made out until their lips were sore.

But Earthland Juvia was in love with Gray.

Lisanna watched the way Juvia watched Gray, seeming to memorize everything he did. The way Gray's austere exterior only served to encourage the woman. The way Juvia smiled at Gray with that light in her eyes that had once belonged to Lisanna.

By no choice of her own, Lisanna had been ripped away from her Juvia.

Lisanna envied Gray Fullbuster more than she'd envied anyone before. She hated him. He had everything she wanted clinging to him, and he shoved it away. Roughly. Rudely. Growing up together, she'd found him pleasant, but now she could hardly look at him.

So when Juvia came over and asked to speak with her one day, Lisanna was a mix of confused, frustrated, and thrilled. Hoping to school her face into polite curiosity, Lisanna tried not to think of this woman as Juvia.

When Juvia had drawn Lisanna to a corner of the guild, Lisanna asked, "What's up?" and was ridiculously proud her voice didn't shake.

"You know Natsu-san well?" Juvia asked.

Lisanna smiled.

"Yeah. He's one of my best and oldest friends. I mean," she clarified quickly, "I'm the one who gives him dating advice about the guys he's into."

She smiled, hoping Juvia got the idea. _I'm single! Look at me!_

"Even better." Juvia let out a tense breath. "Do you have any suggestions on how to discourage him…away from a crush? Or know of anyone else he's attracted to we can set him up with?"

Lisanna blinked.

"Anyone…else?"

"Besides Gray."

Oh.

Shoulders sagging, Lisanna shrugged. "I'll be honest: he's been into Gray for a long time. I don't think there's much hope of turning him on someone else. And if I may say so…"

"What?"

It was petty. Except it was true. A truth that would benefit Lisanna—and yet a truth that would hurt Juvia.

She took a deep breath.

"I think Gray's into him, too."

She regretted the comment as soon as it was out of her mouth: Juvia curled in on herself, growing smaller as her world dimmed.

"Even if…Gray only gave him…some parts of himself, and not everything?" she asked.

"You'd have to ask Natsu." Lisanna took a step closer, putting herself within reach of the other woman and daring to touch her shoulder. "Juvia, why are you so into Gray?"

"He's like me," Juvia whispered.

"How?"

"He's…sort of…not into all the same things as most people in relationships." She twisted her fingers. "He doesn't generally want to—to fuck. And I don't—I've just never really wanted that either. But datefriends always expect it, especially men, and… Yeah."

"Oh." Surprised, Lisanna's voice grew quiet. "Mira-nee and Elf-niichan are too."

Juvia's head shot up. "They are?"

"Yeah." Lisanna chuckled. "When we were younger, Mira used to joke that the Strauss line would end with us. Until I grew up and found the idea of sex didn't turn me off the way it did for them. With women, anyway."

"I didn't know." Juvia's face warmed—cheeks pinking while the glister returned to her eyes. "That makes me feel considerably less alone."

"You're never alone," Lisanna said instantly, taking both Juvia's hands. "Not at Fairy Tail. You're totally normal and you deserve love too. And if anyone says otherwise, I'll beat them up for you."

Juvia laughed. That tinkling sound stopped Lisanna's heart, sending bubbles popping up her insides.

So beautiful.

"Thank you," Juvia said honestly, turning that for-Gray-only smile on her and making Lisanna's happiness skyrocket.

"So…Juvia, there's no need to pine after someone who doesn't love you," Lisanna said. "You'll be taken care of here. We won't let you be lonely. _I_ won't let you be."

Biting her lip, Juvia looked away.

"Th-Thank you, Lisanna-san."

"Just Lisanna."

When Juvia smiled this time, it was shy and almost…almost something. Of course, Lisanna could be wrong: she'd been out of the game awhile. She'd spent all her time since getting back to Earthland pining after Juvia. _After someone who doesn't love you. Way to follow your own advice._

She was suddenly aware that she still had Juvia's hands clasped in hers: aware because Juvia squeezed her fingers.

"Thanks, Lisanna."

Lisanna swallowed around a dry throat. "Any time."

She watched Juvia walk across the hall, gaze drawn to the way Juvia's hair fell in waves down her back, the way she walked with sure, strong steps—a tiny bit of the Edolas Juvia in the insistence of her movements.

When Mira coughed behind her, Lisanna jumped and whirled around, fighting to control her furious blush.

* * *

Lisanna eyed Juvia across the hall as the rain poured down outside—not a result of Juvia's tears. The rain mage was sewing something, with a very intent Erza looking on and asking questions, Juvia laughing every so often.

Recently Juvia had stopped constantly seeking Gray's presence; could be found more and more with other members of the guild. It made Lisanna happy, knowing Juvia felt more comfortable—knowing Lisanna's pep talk had meant something to her.

A shout made Lisanna look around: Happy jumped up happily as Natsu entered the guild, Gray beside him.

Looking between the two men, Lisanna narrowed her eyes. The tension felt different.

"You're baaaack!" Happy called, flying into Natsu's chest. "How was your mission?"

Natsu glanced at Gray, and that's when she knew.

"Went fine," Gray said. "I stopped him before he destroyed any buildings."

"Oi!" Natsu punched his shoulder, but it wasn't a hard punch, nothing like the punches that began their brawls.

Gray was snickering, and Natsu was too.

Goddamn. They'd actually finally gotten together.

Beaming, Lisanna was about to call out across the hall and embarrass them, but she caught sight of Juvia. No way. She couldn't break Juvia's heart.

It turned out she didn't have to.

Juvia, along with the rest of the hall, was watching as Erza marched over to the two men.

"How much will the damage cost?" she demanded. "If it's less than the last job you went on, I won't hit you."

Natsu bit his lip looking chastised, and he and Gray glanced at each other again.

"We really honestly didn't," Gray said. "Natsu hardly burned anything. I was the worst; I kind of crushed a bench."

"That was not you," Natsu snorted. He turned to Erza. "The woman broke off some of his ice and it smashed a bench. He didn't do anything."

"Okay," Erza said, still suspicious. "If you're being honest, then good job. Color me impressed."

"You really think they'd lie for each other?" Lucy laughed. "You're talking to Natsu."

"Yeah. I resent the accusation that we're lying," Natsu growled. Seemingly unconscious, he leaned into Gray's shoulder.

Gray shrugged. "I'd lie for you, sunflower."

Natsu shot him a look.

"You are not helping our case."

"Whatever. If she's going to hit us, she's going to hit us." Gray faced Erza again. "Right?"

"Right." Erza rolled her eyes. "Go sit down and relax. Gods, you two."

Lisanna was not the only person watching with rapt attention as Gray and Natsu walked together across the hall, as their hands intertwined, and as they sat down with Lucy and Happy as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

Apparently this development wasn't news to their team. Erza walked off as if nothing had happened and Happy curled up on top of Gray's head.

Lisanna watched Juvia watch the two men, Juvia's slight frown unreadable. After a few minutes, she returned to her sewing, silently working away.

When Lisanna tapped her on the shoulder, Juvia jumped.

"Hey," Lisanna said with an understanding smile. She didn't want something. She wasn't feeling victorious or lucky. Happily, she found that her heart just wanted to make sure Juvia was okay. "How are you?"

Juvia grunted but didn't look away.

"What are you making?" Lisanna tried again.

This time, Juvia actually smiled; then began she began chatting.

* * *

It was late, half of Fairy Tail already gone home, while the rest were their usual rowdy selves, still drinking and laughing and fighting at half past midnight. Wiping down the bar, Lisanna noticed Juvia at the far end, sitting alone.

"What's up?" Lisanna asked, wending over with an unfightable smile. They were good friends now: it wasn't weird to smile so wide.

"Nothing much." Juvia smiled back. "Just enjoying a final beer."

Juvia looked her over with a warm gaze and met Lisanna's eyes for too long.

"Come sit with me," Juvia said.

"You're drunk," Lisanna chuckled, not sure if she wanted it to be true or not. Despite everything, Juvia just didn't flirt with her: that could not be what this meant.

Lisanna took the stool beside her anyway.

"Not drunk." Juvia leaned her head on Lisanna's shoulder. "Just tired."

"What from?"

"Lucy and I took a job together. It was supposed to be easy, until we discovered the area we were working was cursed…"

"Shit."

Despite her normal tone, Lisanna's inner world was in turmoil: Juvia's head remained on her shoulder—was it okay to put an arm around her? Would that be too transparent; too forward; too…something?

Mentally hitting herself for her stupidity, Lisanna looped her arm around Juvia's waist—though she had a hard time keeping her fingers from caressing the elegant curve.

"Lisanna?" Juvia asked quietly. "Are you dating anyone?"

Lisanna swallowed. "Nope," she laughed nervously. "Not since Edolas."

"Are you like your siblings?"

"In some ways," Lisanna said stubbornly, pretending she didn't know what Juvia meant. "Elf and I have the same temperament, and all three of us use the same magic…"

"Your sexuality?"

"Kinda. We all like women and enbies; they both like men as well."

"Lisanna." Juvia pulled out of her grasp and stared at her head-on. "Are you like me?"

She hadn't wanted Juvia to ask this question.

"No," she said, looking down at her hands.

"Oh."

The disappointment in Juvia's tone was unmistakable. Even Lisanna couldn't question it: that was a heavy sigh.

This was her moment.

Lisanna took a deep breath.

"Even knowing you're not," Juvia interrupted, "may I ask you out?"

All that breath fled Lisanna's lungs.

"Um," she choked out. "Yes. I would—I would _love_ that. _Really_ love that."

When Lisanna grinned, it was mirrored back to her on the most stunning face any alternate universe had ever created.

"So you're not put off?" Juvia asked, taking Lisanna's hand. "By me?"

"Of course not. I told you my brother and sister are, too. It's normal to me."

"But your needs."

Lisanna shook her head, hair flying. "It's not like that. My need is to be with you."

The red that seeped into Juvia's face was the most beautiful thing Lisanna had ever seen.

"Oh," the rain mage whispered.

It would be different. It wouldn't be like her old Juvia, who attacked her in corners with heavy kisses and hands slipping up her shirt. It would be new and soft and fun. Different and unique, this Juvia her own special person unlike any other. And just like before, it would be wonderful, for all its own set of reasons.

"Can I kiss your cheek?" Lisanna asked in a timid, quiet voice.

"You can kiss _me_ ," Juvia said.

When Lisanna stiffened in shock, Juvia leaned in to press her mouth to Lisanna's.

The Takeover mage made a soft sound of disbelief.

She knew different desire didn't mean no physical contact ever: she knew that, but it still surprised her when Juvia slipped her fingers into Lisanna's hair to pull her closer, sucked Lisanna's bottom lip between her teeth before pulling away and giggling.

"Your expression," Juvia laughed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"So it's okay?" Lisanna asked in wonder. "My kissing you, that's okay?"

"Always."

Light tingled along Lisanna's veins.

"What about cuddling?"

"I like to be the little spoon," Juvia said with a sideways grin.

Lisanna's heart leapt.

"And…and skin doesn't bother you, right? Like if we're both at the baths, my seeing your body doesn't upset you?"

"Personally? No. Nudity has never really fazed me."

Which Lisanna should have guessed, considering Juvia had been perfectly comfortable with Gray's stripping.

She leaned in and kissed Juvia's lips again.

"I don't mean to go too fast," Lisanna muttered, "but cuddling is okay, and bodies aren't a problem for you, so…"

She broke away enough for Juvia to see the grin stretching wide across her features.

"My needs can most definitely be met."

The pleased blush that infused Juvia's cheeks was absolutely adorable.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hc asexual Strausses. ^^


	9. Laxus & Freed, Transformation

**Chapter 9: Laxus/Freed - "Transformation"**

 **A/N:** Laxus has been practicing Takeover magic for some fun…when he pranks his boyfriend, the demon emerges.

* * *

"Hey, there."

Laxus knew that tone of voice: the majorly-coming-on-to-you tone, the I-know-we're-going-to-sleep-together tone.

He turned and eyed the young man.

"Yes?" he said warily. He'd just wanted to practice transformation magic. Imitating Mira was the latest project—it was the first time he'd transformed into someone so small, and he was surprised how it felt.

The man, a new recruit to Fairy Tail, wasn't huge, but he still loomed over Mira, and he was using his height to his advantage.

"What are you doing this evening?" he asked, leaning forward and smiling in a way Laxus instantly disliked.

"Nothing that concerns you," he said, which got an immediate scowl. Mira probably would've been nicer about it, but Laxus was getting angry on her behalf and did not feel like playing nice. No, he decided: Mira would probably be just as cold in this situation.

"I don't know about that," the man said, tilting his head almost as if he were going to go in for a kiss. God, Laxus hoped not. He wouldn't be able to stop unleashing hell on the guy.

The guy put a hand on Laxus's arm.

Laxus felt the grip and froze for a second, startled. There was nothing inherently evil about the gesture, but something about it felt…invasive. With the height difference and the fact that this guy was way too close inside his personal space, Laxus was getting a feeling he'd never felt before: physically intimidated.

Snapping his arm away, he took a hurried step back, hating that he had to retreat in order to not crane his neck, and gave him a full glare.

"You want to flirt, pick someone else. I am not in the mood."

"Come—"

"I swear to the goddess, if you finish that sentence, you will regret it."

Apparently Laxus looked pissed enough: the guy backed down.

"Fine. I'll find someone else." He gave a competitive leer. "You'll miss out, but I guess that's on you."

When the man had finally walked away, Laxus sighed and leaned on the bar. Ugh. Assholes. He didn't know how Mira handled it: if he were her, he'd transform into someone conventionally 'ugly' every day just to get them to stop. On the other hand, would that actually stop them? Possibly not. And then they'd be even more offended when she said no.

Damn. Talk about a no-win.

Out of the corner of his eye, Laxus saw Gajeel looking at him intently. He still smelled like himself, so the iron dragon was probably wondering what the hell was going on. Grabbing Bickslow's arm, Gajeel pointed at him.

When Laxus glanced to ensure his unwanted flirt had truly left, he sighed. The man was eyeing—and then headed for—the slim, muscled package of handsome also known as Freed, who was deep in a book a few tables away.

The young man had a slight flush to his face, and if Laxus listened, he was sure he'd hear the elevated heartbeat of attraction.

Gajeel and Bickslow were coming over now, while Laxus released the transformation magic and with relief found himself back to his normal height.

"Shit, I hate being short," he grumbled as his two guildmates ambled up.

Bickslow snickered.

"What the hell?" Gajeel asked. "You playing pranks or something?"

"Honestly? Just practicing. But that asshole was something else."

"Newcomer to the guild," Gajeel said.

"And look who he's decided to go after…" Bickslow murmured.

They all turned in time to see the man sidle up to Freed and hold out a hand, pleasant smile fixed on his face like a perfect lie.

"You gonna go rescue him?" Gajeel asked.

"No," Laxus said. "Why would I?"

"Um…because a man is flirting with your boyfriend?"

"Shush, I want to hear what they say."

"Damn, what is wrong with you, Dreyar?" Gajeel asked.

Laxus rounded on him.

"You expect me to be jealous? Freed can handle himself. Just wait and see what happens. This will be good."

Looking shrewd, he turned back to the interaction taking place some meters away, while Bickslow chuckled—he knew Freed well enough he could probably guess what was coming.

Freed, being his usual formal-and-friendly self, offered the man a seat with solemn earnestness. The man slid next to Freed, instead of across from him. Freed shifted slightly—Laxus didn't think he'd cottoned on yet.

"I hear you're new to the guild," Freed said. "Welcome."

"Thank you. You do runes, yeah? I've heard about you…"

"What are they saying?" Bickslow hissed. "I don't have you guys' hearing."

"Just pleasantries so far," Laxus said.

They listened a few seconds more.

"Wow, he's laying it on thick," Gajeel observed. "I think he legitimately has a crush on your man."

"An asshole like him?" Laxus scowled. "He just wants to get laid."

"And you're just watching. Most people help their friends out of situations like that," Gajeel said.

"I told you: Freed can take care of himself, Redfox," Laxus laughed. "Just watch."

"Goddess, this is twisted," Bickslow cackled. "Poor Captain."

"Shh," both Dragon Slayers said at once. "He's backed Freed into a corner with compliments," Gajeel added. "Okay, he's a player. Gotta admit, the young guy has skills."

"Not the kind that are actually useful," Laxus mumbled.

Bickslow was pouting. "Still can't hear."

"Fine. Let's move closer. But out of Freed's sight."

They sat at the table behind Freed, with a perfect view of the flirt's enraptured face. Okay, Laxus was a _little_ jealous seeing that look. Because it was a fact: Freed was incredible. Part of Laxus got protective of that, even though he knew there was no reason to be.

It was probably good for him to sit here and watch how this played out.

After a few more rounds of increasingly suggestive talk, Freed sputtering as the man managed to twist every word he said into an innuendo, the man dropped his question.

"What are you doing this evening?"

"Going home and reading." Freed sounded confused. "What about you?"

"Maybe the same thing. Except not reading…"

The young man smiled, and Laxus could _hear_ Freed's bewilderment. To Freed, his and Laxus's relationship was an immutable fact, so he could be thick when guys tried to pick him up. It went completely against his reality.

The man touched Freed's arm.

Laxus growled, which made Gajeel smirk.

"You did say to watch and wait," Bickslow pointed out.

"I know," Laxus grumbled. "The good part is coming."

"What are you doing?" Freed asked, drawing away from the man's hand.

"You really don't know?" the man asked, smiling. "Someone as intelligent as you?"

"What? No, stop touching me."

"Come now," the man grinned, clearly unaware when it was time to give up. "You've got to be bored of always going home to the same house by yourself. Have a drink with me, and maybe I can persuade you to come relax at my place instead."

He touched Freed's arm again, his fingers slipping between strands of Freed's hair and lightly combing through it—

Freed launched out of his seat.

"Kindly _don't_ touch me."

"Whoa. Calm down." The man backtracked, smile apologetic, conciliatory, kind. "I'm so sorry: I didn't mean to upset you."

He took hold of Freed's bicep and Freed's eyes burned with anger. When he tried to jerk away, the man's grip didn't break, still making calming motions. As if _holding on_ would calm Freed down.

"I said don't," Freed snarled, and then his eye really _was_ burning, whirling with magic as a wall of runes appeared, knocking the man backward out of his seat.

Rising from the floor, the man realized this display had gained them an audience: Laxus could see the realization in his eyes. Then the irritation and pride. This guy felt he had a reputation to maintain.

"What the hell?" the man snapped, keeping his voice low. "What was that reaction for? I apologized."

The runes dissipated, but Freed was still glaring daggers at the guy.

"You did more than that."

"Fine," the man sighed as he dusted himself off. "Let me start over. Looks like we could both use a drink. Hey, Kinana—"

A fourth time, he grabbed Freed's arm.

This guy never fucking learned.

It was obvious the grip wasn't painful or hard, but it was possessive. Ire flashed over Freed's features.

"Don't. Ever. Touch. Me. Again."

Freed slammed the heel of his hand into the man's chest and the young man went flying, crashing into a pillar and cracking it. Freed was vibrating, but more than that, he'd used magic without thinking about it; Laxus wasn't sure Freed realized he was wearing his dark form. Rising, Laxus came to his side.

"Damn," someone said.

"Freed…" Laxus caressed a knuckle across Freed's back.

Freed rounded on him, helm dissipating but armor still on.

"Goddess. It's you." Freed settled into relief. "This guy was trying to… Hold on."

Turning, Freed marched up to the young man, who hadn't pulled himself out of the cracked remains of the pillar.

"I'm with that imposing and incredibly hot man over there," Freed said, pointing at Laxus with a gauntleted hand. "I let _him_ touch me, and no one else. I go home with him every night. My loyalty belongs to no one else. Don't ever try to get between my boyfriend and me again."

Gazing in bleary confusion between Freed and Laxus, the young man didn't speak or even nod.

Freed transformed back to his usual self, hair settling about his shoulders. Behind him, Laxus tilted down to kiss Freed's ear.

"Freed, that was really—"

Freed had whirled and launched across the gap between them, kissing Laxus like he was starving. Hard enough Laxus's mouth was going to be sore. He could hear chuckles behind him, Bickslow and Gajeel, but that didn't matter. What did matter was that he was running his fingers through Freed's hair and Freed didn't push his hand away like the young man: Freed drew Laxus into an embrace, and groaned at Laxus's teeth biting his lip, and never once tried to say, _Don't._

* * *

 **A/N:** Again, I am taking a holiday and can't write, edit, or post, so I figured I'd spam you guys with updates to tide you over ;)

Comments are encouraged.


	10. Sting & Rogue, Small

**Chapter 10: Rogue/Sting – "Small"**

 **A/N:** Happy birthday, ThisGoldenAfternoon! (No fainting now, lovely *passes the smelling salts*)

Rogue can't believe how tiny this precious new life is. - The purest domestic fluff I have ever written. People were talking about parental FT headcanons and I just couldn't NOT do this.

* * *

"…so tiny," Rogue murmured.

Sting stepped into the room, beaming ear to ear. Rogue had this different way of talking to Ryuusei—already his parenting voice.

Rogue looked up as Sting entered, holding the infant up to 'stand' shakily on his knees.

"He's actually pretty big," Sting said, coming to stand by his chair. "For his age."

"Then all babies are small," Rogue said.

Sting chuckled, staring down into the tiny bemused face. "You haven't been around many babies, have you?"

"You know I haven't," Rogue grunted.

Kneeling, Sting kissed his head. "You make a great dad."

Rogue hummed. Then he sniffed.

"You smell different."

"New shampoo. 'Sunset masculinity' or some shi—ah, I mean, _thing._ I couldn't find the usual stuff at the store."

"I should never leave the shopping to you," Rogue laughed. "Also, Sunset Masculinity is the gayest-sounding shampoo."

"Well, I am pretty gay."

"Just a little gay."

"Eh, I married you. I think that makes me full-gay."

Rogue laughed.

Ryuusei kicked errantly and Rogue handed him over into Sting's outstretched fingers. Sting turned the baby around so they could both watch Rogue rise and stretch; he looked quite handsome doing it—since Sting was full-gay, he was allowed to appreciate that.

When Rogue yawned, Ryuusei's head swiveled to take in the room with the expression of one who is constantly startled. Sting figured that babies probably _were_ constantly startled.

"What?" Rogue asked, looking over with eyebrows raised.

"Nothing." Sting grinned. "You know, I think he's gonna be like you. Contemplative. Just don't get moody, Ryuu, okay?"

Sting bobbed lightly back and forth, and Ryuusei waved a fist.

"See? He's already quiet like you are. And he watches everything."

Rogue snorted.

"You're ridiculous, Sting." He kissed Sting, then kissed their son. "You can be whoever you want to be, lovey. We'll love you regardless."

He straightened, blushing at Sting's knowing look—Rogue had used The Voice again. "I'm going to work out. See you in a little bit?"

"Sounds good, love. We'll have fun together until then. Won't we?" Sting jiggled Ryuusei some more and got a "gmmmng" in response.

"See, that's a smile," Rogue said affectionately, letting Ryuusei grab his finger. He gave Sting a grin. "That's more like you."

"You smile too," Sting pouted. "All the time."

"You only think that because I smile whenever you're around," Rogue murmured, blushing.

Sting let out a happy laugh. "Go work out, you."

Rogue left, Sting kicking him teasingly in the rear, then Sting looked down at the warmth against his chest. He liked the reassurance of that soft weight.

Ryuusei was still staring around with wide eyes, head bobbing. Yep, definitely like Rogue.

"C'mere, love. Let's go see what we can make for brunch. Food, hey?" He awkwardly signed _food_ left-handed; Ryuu watched and then continued his survey of the room. Sting bounced him. "You'll care more about communicating once you realize our understanding means you get fed faster."

He began pulling things out of the cupboard, feeling Ryuusei's weight gradually more and more in his arm. Damn, this was why Rogue cooked with Ryuu strapped on his back.

"On the other hand, Ryuu, you are not yet a year old, so I will give you grace for not having the frontal lobe capacities necessary for complex communication." He sifted through recipes—unlike Rogue, he could not make pancakes from memory. "Now that I think about it, your temporal lobe is fully developed, yeah? So understanding should be developing fine; it's language _production_ that has to catch up. I think. I should ask Freed and Rufus."

He'd put Ryuusei on the counter as he spoke, holding him up with one hand, and now had all the baby's concerned attention.

"I know. I'm such a nerd. It's okay, you can say it." He winked. "Actually, you can't say it, but you will soon enough. All too often, I'm sure. It'll be, _Daaaaad, you're such a nerd, stop embaaaarrassing me._ Wanna know how I know? Because I was a kid once too. Hard as that is to believe."

Ryuu made an unintelligible sound, then broke into a toothless smile.

"Right." Sting grinned back. "I completely agree. Let's make pancakes for Daddy-Rogue."

* * *

 **A/N:** Of course I had to name their son after a dragon. ^u^


	11. Gray & Briar, Paradise in Hell

**A/N:** I liked Briar for some reason, and I can't help thinking Gray would've been lonely and…so this happened.

But because I'm a devoted Gratsu fan, once I started this I just had to write a Gray-and-Natsu-reunite-after-a-year drabble, which turned into Frozen to Death and ironically got posted first. And THEN I wrote "Dicks, Asses, & Feelings" which is basically a smutty alternative to Frozen to Death, and so I really, really had to post this. xP

 **This oneshot comes before Ch. 5-6 ("Mourning With Your Body"), and after "Frozen to Death" and "Dicks, Asses, & Feelings."**

 _Summary: Gray is lonely, and Briar propositions him. What follows is rough and needy, but may not be enough to fill the hole Natsu left in his life._

* * *

 **Chapter 11 – Gray/Briar – "Paradise in Hell"**

"Your cock must be lonely. Didn't you leave a boyfriend behind to come here?"

Gray looked around: Briar leaned against the far wall of the chamber, arms crossed under her breasts and her smirk in place. He bent back over the map, pretending to stare at the routes of armies and sub-guilds.

"You ever look for somewhere to put it?" Briar asked, walking over. "Someone who'll take care of it for you? Those thin wrists of yours have better things to do than jerk."

"Maybe," he said casually. "I fucked Jerome, so I guess I found a place to put it."

She laughed.

They'd been circling him lately. All of them, trying to see if he were interested. He half-wondered if they'd taken bets.

"You're young," she said. "And hot. Surely you need more than one place to stick it."

Eyes narrowed, he turned to face her; she was already inside his personal space, and the look on her face was dark and tempting.

"Are you offering?" he asked.

She let out a sigh calculated to draw his attention to her chest. "You couldn't tell?"

As he moved closer, she did too, hands almost reaching for him. Swallowing thick, he grabbed her crotch through her skirt to rub hard fingers over her clit. Briar moaned.

"Oh god, yes. Fuck me, Gray." She gasped, lips parted and face flushing. "Fuck me. I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Any way you like it." She grinned. "I used to have a girlfriend who kept me flexible, but everyone in this place is…not very interesting. But I imagine you are."

Gray grunted.

He untied her top with a jerk, the fabric falling to the floor as his hoisted her onto the edge of the table. His lips closed over her nipple, flicking it with his tongue before sucking hard. Briar gasped and arched her back into him.

Rubbing calloused fingers over her breast, Gray felt his pants growing painfully tight, licking her hard tit over and over. Briar moaned as he rubbed her flesh raw.

Shoving back against him, she dismounted from the table and grated over the front of his pants. Gray growled and turned the pair of them to back her against the wall.

As she shoved his pants down around his hips, he pressed her tight against the hard stone, cock rutting against the planes of her abdomen. Briar was practically naked, the part-skirt, part-loincloth getup she wore giving little resistance. With her pleading obscenely in his ear, Gray tugged the cloth aside and thrust between her legs.

Fuck, yes. He'd missed this. He'd missed human contact, and pretending that it meant something.

Wrapping his fingers around her warm thighs, Gray shoved Briar up against the wall and entered her with a quick, sharp shove.

Pleasure tightened around his cock. Gray grunted in spite of himself. Hot and slick she took him, squeezing, trying to thrust herself down onto him while those two perfect breasts shuddered, the dark, hard points of her nipples calling to him. He would take her right here in the hall. Briar wasn't interested in the slow luxury of foreplay.

"Fuck, this rock…" she whined. The rough grit was scraping her while she kept humping up and down on his cock.

Hand on the wall, ice burst from Gray's fingers without thought, cold and smooth. The freezing touch must've burned her naked skin, but she didn't resist, sliding more easily now. Gray sped up, thrusting into her hard and fast, hips colliding in sharp bursts.

He needed this. The tightness pulling him in, spasming his muscles, drawing together all the tension he bore from months of lying, months of stalking unfriendly halls and spitting cruel words at murderous people, grinning at blood and torture, and finding that some part of him liked it. All the power he wore like some cloak of darkness: he could give it up here, become simply a beast fucking another beast until they were both sated.

Simple, hot, alive.

One hand still held her thigh up for access, the other gliding through sweaty curls and pinching her clit. Briar thrashed in ecstasy, and when her chaotic movements brushed her hard nipple across his own, Gray crashed into her. Fuck, it felt so good. All he was was feeling. He sank his teeth into her neck, mindless, possessing this moment with all his balled-up violent energy.

After a particularly hard thrust, he caught sight of his reflection in the smooth surface of his ice. Black creeping over him, through his eye, flecked with tiny, evil glints of red and indigo. He looked like a demon was taking over his soul.

Briar chose that moment to snarl, "More, Fullbuster—!"

Gray pulled out and slammed her around by her hips. Briar's hands hit the ice, barely catching herself before he dragged her ass to him, tugged the scrap of fabric off her, and shoved into her cunt from behind.

"Oh gods, yes!" she exclaimed, Gray entering her over and over, so close to pleasure. The electricity thrumming through his body made his muscles jump and tighten. In the reflection, they could both watch as his hand snaked up and grabbed her breast, fingers digging into the skin, pinching her tit hard. Briar cried out again. At this rate, someone would hear, but Gray didn't care. Let them come and watch them fuck.

 _Like the monsters we are._

He came without ceremony, thrusting hard into her and holding her there, hands squeezing her breasts. Briar made a mess of noises, which jumped up in pitch when he pulled out and twisted her around.

When Gray kissed her, it was hard enough to bruise both of them. Teeth on her lips, tongue thrust rudely into her mouth. He reached between her legs and dragged his fingers over her clit, Briar's hand reaching down to guide him. He was suddenly thankful for those bored nights fucking with Juvia when he had nothing (and no one) better to do. He knew where to press, let her pull and push against him as she needed until, shouting, she climaxed, pulsing against his palm.

"Fuck," she growled. "Fuck, fuck…"

"Thanks," Gray said tersely, zipping his pants. Briar's skirt was still flapped to the side, exposing her—and who knew where her top was at this point. Her chest heaved with her panting, breasts jolting with each inhale. She seemed quite proud of displaying them.

"My cunt welcomes you any time," she said. "Use me whenever you want."

"You're that bored?" Gray snorted, hands in his pockets, looking toward the door.

"That needy." She straightened. "Nobody here fucks like you do, Fullbuster. I can tell you that right now."

"Stop trying, Briar," he said, turning away. "This was a one-time offer."

"Whatever you say," she called after him.

As he trudged out and down the corridor, one face filled his memory.

It stared him down until guilt and longing were crushing, the loneliness an agony beating in his ribs. _Natsu._ Would he ever see the flame-brain again?

Would they even know each other anymore?

Punching the wall, he swallowed the salt that tried to slip down his cheek. There was no freedom here. Just torture and blood and people who liked it. Just the hardness of his own soul, and the curse taking over his body.

He would never be good enough anymore. It was reason enough to get off with her again whenever they both needed it. His life was turning into nothing but an instrument that others played.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry that ended a bit sad. The much happier fic "Dicks, Asses,  & Feelings" (about Gray and Natsu's sweet, smutty reunion) is about to come out to make up for it.

Comments make me feel loved!


End file.
